


Liberation

by ballerinaroy



Series: Redeeming Decrees [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family Secrets, Forced Marriage, Not Epilogue Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-07-11 03:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15963311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballerinaroy/pseuds/ballerinaroy
Summary: Fourteen years have passed since the Third Rebellion took over the ministry, sending the wizarding world into chaos. With the marriage laws long since repealed, but their unions still intact, Hermione joins the Weasleys at the lake and for the first time since she’d fled the country she finds herself able to spend time alone with the man she’d always regretted leaving. Meanwhile, Ron, the proud father of a fourteen-year-old witch, finds himself reflecting on his own loveless marriage and the woman he’d never stopped pinning after. Once old family secrets are discovered will Ron and Hermione be reunited? Or will their story end for good?





	1. Harry and Ginny's Wedding October 13th, 2001

With dinner finished and music playing, the head table seemed to empty rapidly. Harry and Ginny were making their rounds and even Neville had gone off, talking to Hannah Abbott it seemed in a corner by the bar. Aware of Ron’s eyes on her, Hermione had turned to say something to Luna only to find her missing as well, across the dance floor entertaining a young group of children with a peculiar dance. 

The chair beside her moved, and when she turned around Ron was sitting in Ginny’s empty seat. She’d managed thus far to avoid him for the weekend, shielding herself by talking to Luna or Neville and making a point to sit as far away from him as possible except when their best man and maid of honor duties demanded they be close to one another. Their conversations had been civil and short though she stammered like an idiot whenever he was around. It seemed Ron didn’t fancy starting rumors either.

“That bloke over there keeps looking over,” he whispered in her ear, making a motion to his eyes to a rather unruly looking man who was indeed trying to make eye contact with Hermione.

“Right,” Hermione said, feeling quite nervous as he made eye contact and seemed to see it as an invitation to come over. Rapidly Hermione stood. “Quick,” she hissed, grabbing Ron’s hand. “Dance with me.”

Ron didn’t need another invitation. He stood, taking her hand in his, leading her over to the group of witches and wizards who were swaying to some orchestral tune which seemed much too old for Harry or Ginny’s tastes. Easily he led her into a slow step, turning her away from the wizard who, after a moment, frowned and wandered off.

“He’s lost attention,” Hermione whispered once certain that he was gone. Ron didn’t say anything, continuing to lead her in a small step.

“Victor Krum is trying to catch your eye now,” he answered and with a blush, Hermione hid her face in his chest. Ron chuckled, pulling her closer. For perhaps another minute they swayed on the spot until Ron nodded. “He’s gone then.”

“Thanks,” Hermione answered, pulling away from him.

“Oh come on,” Ron said, looking rather disappointed at her. “It’s just a dance.”

“I didn’t know if-“ Hermione started and then faltered into a smile, putting her hands properly in his.

Their eyes locked. It was the first time since she’d been back that she could remember properly looking at him. Though only a year and a half had passed since she’d graduated from Hogwarts, he seemed to have aged a great deal. His hair was neatly kept and short atop his head, and a mature, managed, stubble was on his chin. Realizing not for the first time how attractive he was, Hermione felt a familiar pang of guilt. For a moment she wondered what would have been if she hadn’t left if she had decided to stay and patch things up or even if she hadn’t let him go at all. Would it still be Harry and Ginny’s wedding that they were dancing at? Or would it be their own, Hermione in the white dress and the unfadeable smile on Ron’s face? Would they have even survived this long?

“You’re staring,” Ron whispered and Hermione felt her face grow red. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” He teased.

“Stop it,” she said, face breaking into an easy smile. “You look well,” she said after thinking it over for a minute. If she wasn’t mistaken his smile grew wider.

“And yourself,” he answered, looking down at her bare shoulders. “Italy seems to suit you quite well.”

“I like it there,” she agreed and he spun her around. Hermione felt dizzy when she was back in his arms.

 

“Why are you so keen on rejecting everyone?” he asked as she moved closer, fending off another man who appeared to be making his way over. Easily Ron wrapped his arm around her for a moment until the bloke stopped to chat with someone. “Not all of them are unattractive.”

“Trying to be my wingman?” Hermione teased. Ron’s eyes twinkled for a moment and then the sad look from before was back. “I’m sort of involved with someone back home.”

“Oh?” Ron asked, eyebrows raised. “Ginny didn’t mention anything. Why isn’t he here?”

“Ginny doesn’t know,” she answered the first and easier statement. The barkeep set their drinks before them on the counter and Ron handed her one, gesturing to an empty table at the back of the tent for them to sit at. “And it’s complicated. Not to mention he doesn’t speak a lick of English.”

“No English?” he asked, a clever smile on his face. “Does that mean that you speak Italian?” he seemed rather excited by this revelation and Hermione nodded, blushing for some reason. “Let’s hear it then.”

“I’m not fluent or anything,” Hermione told him, her face feeling hot again. “I use English at work mostly.”

“You must know enough if you’re dating someone,” he persisted. “Don’t tell me that you don’t talk at all.”

“We’re not dating,” she insisted, looking around quickly. “And we do talk.”

“I won’t ask about him if you don’t like,” Ron said good-naturedly, lifting his hands away from the table in surrender.

“Thank-you,” Hermione said, trying to keep civil. She busied herself with her drink.

“Though I still want to hear you speak it,” he whispered.

Hermione was aware suddenly that he’d leaned in closer. Without anyone else near them, she was keenly aware of the smell of his cologne. She felt transported back, and dizzy again though they weren’t moving.

“Come-on Hermione.” He was only inches from her ear. With a grin, she looked at him.

“Ciao, come sei stato?” She said in a quiet voice, checking around to make sure that no one else could hear.

His pupils dilated as she spoke, their faces close enough together she could see them widen. The look on his face was familiar and he placed an arm on the back of her chair, the tips of his fingers brushing against her skin.

“What did you say?” he asked, in the same quiet tone.

“Hello,” she translated, “How have you been?”

“Wow,” Ron said in a voice that could easily be mistaken for a moan though her translation wasn’t particularly exciting.

Her lips suddenly felt very dry and she licked them, though her mouth felt just as dry. The look in Ron’s eyes was of pure lust and though her drunken haze, though she couldn’t remember getting drunk, she couldn’t think of a single reason why she would push him away. He leaned in closer to her, fingers moving absentmindedly on her skin.

“Wanna get out of here?” he whispered in her ear and Hermione nodded quickly.

“We’ll have to wait and say goodbye to Harry and Ginny,” Hermione said trying to regain her composure as they stood, though she cared very little for having to walk over to them or do anything but run out of the tent and apparate away with Ron.

With a disappointed groan, he nodded. Without Ron so close, Hermione was suddenly aware of how cold it had gotten and shivered as they picked up their glasses and scanned the tent for their friends. Before she could think for another second on it, Ron’s coat was on her shoulders, wrapping her in warmth and surrounding her with his sent.

Thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed their private conversation as Ron guided her back to the cluster of people, his hand on the small of her back. Easily they found Harry and Ginny who seemed to have eyes for no one besides one another. They separated when Ron and Hermione approached them, but either didn’t notice or simply didn’t say anything about how closely the two were standing.

“Mum says that your car is about to arrive,” Ron said as Ginny gave a hug to Hermione.

“Thank-goodness,” Ginny whispered in Hermione’s ear with a wink.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione moved to Harry who looked momentarily sad at the sight of her. “I’m glad that we’ve gotten to see you.” He told her and then kissed her cheek. “Don’t be a stranger alright?”

Hermione nodded, as others seemed to gather around. When they retreated to the edge of the tent, Ron seemed to grow more bold, his hand on her hip and the same look back in his eyes. He wasted no time in collecting their things, and stealing a bottle of wine before they departed, hands intertwined and they were kissing as soon as they’d landed outside an unfamiliar home. Unlocking the door without his lips leaving her skin, Ron led her inside, dropping everything in his arms and slamming the door behind them. Hermione quickly pushed off his jacket, letting her own purse fall to the ground and wrapped her arms around his neck. With ease and practice, he lifted her off the ground and stumbled blindly towards his bedroom.

 

“So this is your home?” Hermione asked as she examined the collection of items on his bookshelf.

“Yeah,” Ron answered from the kitchen, rummaging through a drawer loudly. He looked up at Hermione, wearing only a shirt of his which was quite large on her. “Moved in right after you left. Couldn’t stand living with my sister and Harry, ah!” he said, shutting the drawer with his hip and held up a corkscrew victoriously. “I’m happy for them, honest but-“

“I understand,” Hermione agreed with a small chuckle, running her fingers over the spines of books that looked well read. “What are all these?”

“I’ve been trying to study up,” Ron answered, glancing at her again through the opening. “I don’t think we ever really appreciated you Hermione, but you were a walking library.” There was the sound of the cork being removed and then the clink of two glasses. “I had to keep up somehow.”

Hermione nodded, moving to the mantel which was decorated with pictures and various nicknacks. There was only one picture of her, standing with Ginny, Harry, and Ron. It appeared that she was trying to get them to take a nice picture, but they kept making her laugh. She smiled at the memory, it having been taken just before she’d gone off to Hogwarts and they to auror training. Her eyes drifted to the picture next to it. Harry and Ginny stood next to one another, and Hermione had been replaced by a girl with straight blonde hair.

“Who’s that?” Hermione asked as Ron came to stand beside her, putting an arm around her and handing her a glass.

Ron didn’t say anything, resting his head on her shoulder as he looked at the picture. “Oh,” he whispered, not sounding very happy about it. “That’s Katie.” He muttered. As he leaned closer to the picture Hermione could see that Katie didn’t look as happy with the Ron beside her as she had just a moment ago.

“Oh?” Hermione asked, turning her head to look at him, her cheek brushing against his.

“A teammate of Ginny’s,” he whispered, straightening up but didn’t move away. “We dated for a spell.”

“She wasn’t at the wedding,” Hermione commented, looking at the girl for a moment more and then back up at Ron.

“No,” Ron agreed, and then there was a faint blush on his cheeks. “According to Ginny I’m not very good at breaking up with girls,” there was a twinkle in his eyes. “You got off easy.”

Hermione scoffed but allowed him to kiss her neck to distract her as he tipped down the frame to hide the picture.

 

“Anyway you’ll stay?” he asked. They lay, side by side, his fingers running up and down the skin of her arm absentmindedly.

“Ronald,” she sighed, making to move away from him but he gently he held her back. She settled for looking up at him. His blue eyes were sad again and her heart felt like it was breaking.

“I know,” he said, staring at her as if trying to memorize every tiny crease of her skin, every inch of her. “But I had to try Hermione.” She sighed, nuzzling against his arm and he kissed her forehead. “How long until you go back?”

“My train leaves tomorrow afternoon.” She answered.

“Wanna grab lunch?” he asked of her. Hermione looked down, fidgeting with the blanket uncomfortably. “Right,” he answered, sounding quite disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” she told him honestly, looking up at him and sighed. “It’s just I haven’t packed yet and-“ he searched her eyes for a moment and then shook his own head. “I don’t feel like it’s fair for you.”

“I understand,” he told her dryly.

She could feel him pulling away and it broke her heart again.

“Please don’t be cross with me,” Hermione begged of him, kissing his shoulder gently and took his hand, intertwining it with her own. “We’ve had a really lovely time, don’t ruin it now.”

For a moment longer he was stiff with her and then seemed to make up his mind, relaxing his hand in hers and nodded. “I’ve missed you, Hermione Jane, you really should visit more often.”

 

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked in surprise as she walked up the stairs to her room, intent on packing and finding a strong cup of coffee before her train arrived. She found Harry exiting the bedroom with a smile on his face.

“Ginny forgot something,” he answered, holding up a pink bag. He looked her over for a moment and then frowned. “Are you just getting in?”

“Yes,” she answered defensively and before he could say anything more she walked past him into her room, wishing she was wearing something other than Ron’s sweats. She could still feel Harry’s eyes on her back.

“Where did you spend the night?” Harry asked accusingly. Hermione didn’t answer. “Who Hermione?”

“I’m perfectly at liberty to sleep with whoever I want Harry Potter.”

“Not while you’re staying under my roof!” he shouted.

“Don’t worry,” Hermione spat back. “I’m only here to grab my things, I won’t be here for long.”

She turned away, not really fancying an argument when she already felt so much regret for what she’d done, for how she’d left things with Ron. Every fiber in her was screaming at her to go back into arms, beg him to take her back and pray he might have the compassion to start things with her again. It was only her brain able to remind her of the mistake she’d made all those years ago, ending things when they were eighteen.

“You can’t keep doing this!” he yelled suddenly. Hermione stopped, turning back to face him. She’d never heard him yell before, not like this and certainly not at her. He seemed to realize what he was doing but was unable to stop. “You can’t keep fucking with him, Hermione.”

“How dare you,” she whispered in a hushed tone. “How dare you, Harry Potter.”

“Well! You don’t get it do you? You broke his heart Hermione, you ruined him. You can’t keep coming back messing with him and running away. Because you’re not the one who has to stay here. I am. I’m the one who has to clean up your messes because we’re not good enough for you.”

“That’s not why-“

“Why you abandoned us? Why you moved four countries away the second you could and will only see us when you’re sent a fifteen dollar invitation?” Harry’s face was alight with anger and he threw down the bag he’d been holding. “You don’t even write, you don’t visit. We’re not people you shared a cab with Hermione.”

“There are things you don’t understand Potter.” She whispered, aware of the tears dripping down the sides of her face.

“Like hell,” he snapped. “Hermione we grew up together, we spent seven years seeing each other nearly every day, we fought in a war together you were the only person who never left my side, who never questioned me and now you’re a stranger who lives in a different country with a different life.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t fancy staying here and playing house, I’m sorry everything didn’t just fall back into place after the war ended.” She let out a long breath. “Not all of us inherit houses and fortunes, some of us are left with our marks and a legacy of fucking up my parent's memories so badly they didn’t even have a flicker of recognition. Some of us don’t end up with the person we date at nineteen.”

“You loved him Hermione and you-“

“Loved him?” she asked, “Loved him? Harry, we dated for nine months, he was my school-boy crush and a war had just ended. That wasn’t love it was infatuation.”

“And you broke his heart!”

“I’m sorry I don’t fit in your neat little narrative,” she spat. “That’s what you wanted for me, isn’t it? You wanted this nice tidy future where your best friend married your other best friend so you didn’t ever have to pick or worry about keeping us around. You wanted a life where we all ended up related and raised our kids together and you never bothered to ask me if it’s what I wanted!”

She panted with the effort of shouting at him, waving her wand around to pack her things. Her trunks landed with a loud thud beside her when she finished, the room looking spotless and as if she’d never even set foot in the home.

“You were happy and you gave that up Hermione,” Harry told her in a low, quiet tone. “Let’s not talk about what I wanted.”

“Let's talk about what I want then! I want to live in a world where I can do research and revolutionize the wizarding world as we know it. I don’t want a life where I’m attached to your name like a footnote. I want a life where I can be happy and can sleep with my ex if I want to and my best friend can be happy for me.”

“And I want a world where I don’t have to spend months picking up my best mate after the girl he loves leaves him again.”

“Your best mate,” she breathed, feeling as if the air had been knocked from her. “Harry you wonder why I don’t visit it’s because you have already chosen who’s side you’re on.”

They stared at each other in silence. Tears continued down Hermione’s face as she stared at her best friend, the person she thought would never leave her, no matter what happened. He didn’t refute her, he didn’t argue with her anymore but instead adopted an exhausted expression. He looked ten years older from the Harry who had been laughing at his wedding the night prior, the man who had managed to light up more still when he spied his best friends with their arms around each other.

For perhaps five minutes he stood there, staring at her as if seeing her for the first time and without a goodbye, without a final word he turned suddenly and stomped out of the room. Hermione winced as he stormed down the stairs, each loud step feeling like a dagger to her heart. The front door slammed, vibrating through the house long after his crack of apparition whisked him away.


	2. Evelyn Weasley

From a young age, Evelyn had always known she’d been born into a loveless marriage. While her Aunts and Uncles would fawn over each other, holding hands and kissing, Evelyn realized quite young that behavior was only reserved for company with her parents, company they were looking to show a happy facade to. The only child to Ronald and Annabelle Weasley, Evelyn had always been her father’s daughter, and not just in spitting image. After all, her father was more fun and when she went with him on trips he would smile and laugh and there always seemed to be a cousin to tag along on their errands. 

When she was young Evelyn would beg and beg her parents for another sibling, another person to share her secrets with. Her mother would always skirt the question as if not getting an answer was better than being told the truth. Evelyn always thought it unfair as her mother had been an only child and therefore should understand how miserable it was like to grow up all alone. Her father would tell her the terrible stories about having six siblings, though he spent so much time with all of them Evelyn knew he had to be making most of his stories up.

Evelyn made do with her cousins, and she always had several to choose from. There were her Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny’s kids, James only a year older, his brother Albus and their little sister Lily. James was her best friend, but he was only hers so long as Fred wasn’t around. Evelyn thought it silly James didn’t like her more as they spent almost all their time together, but when she pointed this out to him he told her it was only because their fathers liked each other so much and there was a lot of truth to that. After all, Evelyn spent more evenings than not at the Potter’s home, eating dinner with her father and the family while her mother was at work.

Evelyn never minded this. Her Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny were the people who loved her the most if her own father wasn’t being considered. They were the ones who helped teach her to ride a broom, telling her to lean in and not look at the ground. When Uncle Harry would take James to work with him he’d take her too, telling them stories about when he and her father had been Aurors together and the hijinx they got up to together at school. She was with the Potters so often, she was mistaken as one of them at times. Her Aunt Ginny always seemed to get a kick out of strangers mistaking her for one of Ginny’s own.

Fred and Roxanne belonged to George and Angelina who lived over the joke shop in Diagon Alley where her father also worked. Uncle George was always good for a laugh and would make her father laugh whenever he thought her father was getting too serious. George said her father always looked too serious and as Evelyn grew she understood what he meant. Her father never smiled at home, he seemed to reserve all of his happiness for when he was at The Potters or at work at the shop.

Evelyn grew up at the shop when she wasn’t with the Potters. She knew the store as well as anyone and would weave her way through her father’s legs while he worked. It was always fun to go to work with her dad, playing pranks on her Uncles or trying out new products before anyone else.

Her favorite girl cousin, Dominique lived in France with her parents Bill and Fleur. Whenever they’d come to visit they’d spend the entire week together, gossiping about boys and what they thought Hogwarts would be like. Her older sister, Victoire, was dating Harry’s godson Teddy. Teddy lived at Harry’s house every summer as his grandmum had died. Teddy looked much older than his years and he was the only person who treated Evelyn like an adult and didn’t brush her off when she talked about her parent’s fighting. Evelyn wished Teddy was around all the time but knew he was in love and didn’t always have time for her. Dominique also had an annoying younger brother Louis who always wanted to tag along with everything they did.

Her Uncle Percy had been the last of them to marry and had a baby by the name of Molly who was old enough only to giggle at them and cry and Percy was much too serious to have a baby bouncing on his lap. He and her Aunt Audrey were the least likely pair with his stiff nature looking extremely odd compared to her bubbly and warm nature. She’d been an employee of the shop and was the only person who could ever make Percy smile. According to her father, you couldn’t decide who you fell in love with, and they had been one of those pairings.

And then there was her Uncle Charlie who always brought them foreign candies and stories about dragons with burns and scars to match. He and his wife Hermione were the ones Evelyn saw the least, only at Christmas and before the start of school. And while all of her other cousins would tell her funny stories about her Aunt vacationing with her in Italy or the books sent, Aunt Hermione had always seemed rather cold and distant to her. Sure, during Christmas she’d receive a book somehow perfectly matching her interests, but Hermione would only ever greet her briefly and would never hug Evelyn unless she snuck in a line.

Evelyn asked her father about this once as they ate dinner on Friday, the only night she ate with both of her parents sitting at the same table in the same home.

“Why don’t we ever go and visit Aunt Hermione?” Evelyn asked one evening over dinner. James and his family had just returned from Italy, telling her stories about visiting the beach and with bags full of Italian chocolate frogs to share.

There was the sound of silverware clattering and Evelyn looked over to her mother who had thrown down her fork and knife, glaring at her father who was red-faced and staring at Evelyn as though she’d just sprouted another head.

“What’s that dear?” her father choked out.

“Why don’t we ever go and see Aunt ‘Mione?” Evelyn repeated, wondering what they didn’t understand about her question. “James and Albus go and see her twice a year. Why don’t we ever get to go and visit?”

“We travel a lot sweetheart-“

“I know that,” she sighed. “I just don’t get why we can’t go and see her.”

Evelyn looked up at her mother who had a sour look on her face and was staring at her father who seemed unaware and wasn’t making eye contact with anyone now.

“Mum,” Evelyn whined and her mother’s nasty look shifted to her in an instant.

“We will not be going to see your Aunt and that is final.” Her mother said in a tone not to be argued with and departed from the table without cleaning her plate.

Evelyn made up her mind to ask her father about this again but knew better than to ask when her mother was around. Finally, she was given another opening when she was doing her homework with her cousins. It was a fortnight before the start of term. About to return for her third year, and James for his fourth, they’d managed to put off their homework until the last moment. It was her Aunt Ginny who inspired them to do their work, promising them they wouldn’t be able to go on their family vacation on Saturday unless their work was done.

“I didn’t know you and Aunt ‘Mione were friends at school,” James said idly to his Uncle Ron as they sat at the kitchen table, an open book in front of him and a quill in hand.

Evelyn looked up from her homework immediately. Across the table, her father looked as though he was about to choke, his face instantly bright red as he looked up from Albus’ second-year potions essay he was running over.

“What?” he finally managed in a dry voice.

Snatching the book titled “The Second Wizarding War” from in-front of James, who shouted at her, Evelyn began to scan the page hurriedly. The open page was of a newspaper clipping, covering the tournament Uncle Harry had been involved in during his fourth year.

“Is says Aunt ‘Mione and Uncle Harry were involved,” Evelyn commented as she poured over the article.

“Well that’s a load of rubbish,” her father said, snatching the book from her hands before she could read any further. He stared at the picture of Hermione and Harry for a long moment, a sad expression on his face. When he looked up to find James and Evelyn still staring at him he shook his head. “Rita Skeeter was a gossip colonist. Your father never had any feelings for your Aunt, ask either of them.” He paused, looking down at the photo for a moment longer. “Though I believe there’s one in here about his _eyes shining with the ghosts of his past_ ,” he said in a mocking, high pitched voice. “I’ll give out five gallons to the person who sneaks that into conversation at dinner.”

They dissolved into fits of laughter. It wasn’t until they’d moved on that Evelyn realized her father had never talked about being friends with her Aunt at school, though they must have been as Uncle Harry had always been his best friend and Evelyn couldn’t imagine them not talking.

“Dad?” Evelyn asked as they arrived at home, toting her spell books in heavy bags. She’d finished her last assignment, the ink still drying on the unrolled scroll in her hands. “Were you and Aunt Hermione friends?”

“Er-what’s that now?” he asked, looking down with a worried expression.

“I only thought that since Uncle Harry was your best mate and he was friends with Aunt Mione…” Evelyn trailed off, noticing the sour look on her father’s face.

“We knew each other,” he said softly.

“Were you friends?” Evelyn asked again, trying to understand why her father, usually so warm and open was being so secretive.

Her father looked away for a long moment and then finally nodded. “We were friends.” He said in such a soft voice Evelyn almost missed it.

“What happened?” Evelyn asked, feeling as though she was missing something important. “Why don’t you talk with her still?”

Her father looked uncomfortable and they stopped walking, he looked up at their home as if trying to see where someone was in the house. In a low voice and without looking at her he told her part of the truth. “Your Aunt left after Hogwarts to go to Italy, we lost touch after that.”

Not satisfied, but knowing he would not be telling her anything else, Evelyn smiled at her father and they resumed their walking towards the house.

“Is that why Aunt Hermione doesn’t like me?” Evelyn asked quietly.

Ron stopped in his tracks, staring at her. “What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

“Is that why Aunt Hermione doesn’t like me?” she repeated. “Because you had a falling out? I mean she never talks to me and we never go and see her every though everyone else goes and sees her every summer.”

He seemed not to have a clue what to say and Evelyn sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to get an answer. She hadn’t even known her father had been friends with her aunt, hadn’t known they’d even gone to school together before today. She sensed there was something he wasn’t telling her, which was odd because her father always answered her questions, but knew if he wasn’t it was for a good reason.


	3. The Lake House

Ron stood alone in the large living room of one of the cabins which they had rented for the week-long family holiday before the kids returned to school. It had been Audrey’s idea. She had spent her youth on long trips with her extended muggle family on holidays. Ron rather liked Audrey. She had always been a good employee of theirs and had been the only person who’d ever been able to make Percy laugh more than once a week. When she put forward the idea they go away as an entire family, she hadn’t taken long to convince any of them. She had even convinced Hermione to leave her serious new job and join them, a feat Harry and Ginny had been working on for the better of a year. Yes, Ron was excited to spend the week split between two neighboring houses with the siblings and their families who he adored. 

The only thing which could have made the trip possibly any better was the fact his wife had refused to come. Normally he would spend the week entertaining her. She had never been fond of his large family, a point she was sure to make everyone know. Still, she insisted on tagging along on every trip they ever went on, sulking in corners and refusing to be engaged in conversation by anyone. Even Angelina and Audrey, who got along with everyone, couldn’t spend more than a quarter of an hour talking with Annabelle before wandering away with grimaces.

Without his wife in tow, Ron had packed up himself and Evelyn and departed for the weekend. After a loud dinner in the house he was currently standing, in everyone had departed, the girls occupying the other cabin while the boys had been taken for a walk around the area. Audrey, off nursing the baby in one of the three bedrooms, had left Ron alone to clean up, something he didn’t mind, and to eagerly wait for the last arrival.

Since the third attempt at blood laws and their subsequent marriages, Ron had allowed himself little time to think about Hermione.He could still remember the moment, sitting in Harry and Ginny’s kitchen when it had been revealed to him that the arrangements wouldn’t have an ending. Ron could easily recall how helpless he’d felt and how he thought he’d never stop pining after Hermione. But soon after Evelyn had arrived and he knew he had a choice to make and that was either fulfill his role as a father or continue down a path after a goal whom he’d never found the right timing with. There was really no choice to make.

He’d locked his best friend in a small box in the back of his mind and threw himself into his present. Annabelle had always wanted him to stop being an Auror, though he often reminded her if he hadn’t been they would have never met, and took on additional responsibilities at the store. As Evelyn grew and Annabelle shied away from all parenteral responsibilities, he had picked up the pieces she dropped. Ron found it quite easy to push Hermione out of his mind and give as little thought to her as possible. Even when his marriage was falling apart and he found himself resenting his wife more each day he refused to allow his mind to wander back to the woman who had sacrificed their happiness to save a generation.

Still, while he wouldn’t allow his mind to fixate on what might have happened should they never ended things at nineteen, Hermione was never truly gone from his life. Often Harry and Ginny would talk about her, the trips they took the kids to go and see her or letters she sent. On holidays, Hermione would accompany Charlie to England and take part in all the Weasley traditions, a fact which drove Annabelle mad.

Each year, Ron found himself kindly reminding his wife that Hermione was just as much a Weasley as she. Annabelle always resented that, as if she was a more valid member of the Weasley family. When he won that argument she would then argue that she should have been spending time with her own family as she and Charlie had no children to bind them to any calendar. And again, each year, he would remind her in a flat tone that Hermione didn’t have any other family. Her parent's memories had never been recovered after she’d sacrificed them to go and fight their first war. If anything, this reminder would always make his wife livid. At times he almost wondered if she'd enjoyed living under the reign of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. 

When Ginny had said in passing that Hermione would be joining them a week before they’d left for vacation, Ron had felt the familiar heart flutter. He was careful not to mention this to Annabelle for fear that she’d change her mind upon learning that her least favorite sister in law would be in attendance. Ron did not allow himself to linger on the ethics of lying by omission to his wife. After all, it wasn’t like he was even thinking about the possibility of anything happening. He just missed one of his oldest friends. It had been years since they’d even been able to speak alone.

There was the roar of the fireplace from behind and Ron turned to find Hermione stepping out, a bag in hand and hair flying out of her braid from the travel. At the sight of him, she smiled warmly, dropping her bag and looked around the room before hugging him.

“I thought you weren’t arriving until morning,” Ron commented as they pulled apart, much sooner than he would have liked.

“I was able to finish early, I figured the floo would be easier this time of night,” she told him breathlessly, flatting her hair with her hands and looked around the room of the rented cabin. “Where is everyone?”

“Audrey and the baby are asleep, Bill, Percy, and George took the boys for a walk, and Ginny and Angelina have the rest girls are next door,”Ron said, pointing to the cabin just visible next door where the rest of his family would be staying.

“And Harry?” Hermione asked of him and Ron shook his head.

“Got caught up at the ministry,” Ron answered, walking over to the bar to refill his drink. “He said he’d be back tonight but Ginny’s not holding her breath.” He set his glass down and looked up at her. “Fancy something?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Hermione nodded, walking into the living room he’d been standing in and looked around.

Ron resumed his seat and Hermione sat a cushion away from him, accepting her drink with thanks. They sat in silence.

“Is Annabelle joining us?” Hermione asked quietly, the first name on her mind when Ron had been listing everyone’s whereabouts.

Ron shook his head, looking away from her. “Nah, she wasn’t able to get away from work.”

“That’s a shame,” Hermione commented softly, doing her best to stop the smile which threatened to spread over her face.

Whenever Annabelle was around everyone seemed tenser around her. She understood but it didn’t make it any easier when Ron would spend her visits in a sour mood and unable to get five seconds alone with Hermione before Annabelle needed him. Knowing she’d have these next few days without the looming presence of Ron’s wife, and her least favorite sister in law made Hermione immensely more grateful for this reprieve from work.

“When’s Charlie getting in?” Ron asked, drawing her from her guilty thoughts.

It was Hermione’s turn to look away, her smile sinking. “Haven’t the foggiest,” she said softly. “Haven’t spoken to him in a couple of months, I figured I would be seeing him here.”

“Oh?” Ron prompted, and if Hermione wasn’t mistaken there was a ghost of a smile on his face as well. “Is everything alright?”

Hermione waved away his concern with the back of her hand. “Everything is as fine as it’s always been. It’s not like we’ve ever had a real marriage anyway.”

Ron sat patiently, watching her and unable to stand the tension in the room she continued.

“We keep skirting around divorce but every time we start making plans one of us needs it to be held off.” She told him, taking a healthy drink to give her courage. “First it was my career, then his, then he wanted to get a visa in Italy and now I’m getting job offers again but he doesn’t want to end things.”

“I’m sure he’s just worried about you,” Ron reasoned. “About how things will change.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, looking over at him. “Nothing about my life will change in the divorce,” she said with a sigh, rolling the unmelted ice around in her glass. “I always knew I’d be a Weasley and I’ll stay in the family.”

Ron felt a pang of sadness at that statement. He had always intended to make her one.

“He’s the one seeing others. Charlie uses it as an excuse really, as if he’s not the one technically in a relationship, uses it as an excuse to break things off with them. He says I’m apart of the family and he wouldn’t want a new wife getting in the way of that.” Hermione let out a small laugh. “I’ve already got one sister in law that hates me and if she can’t drive me away then the next Mrs. Charlie Weasley won’t be able to.”

Ron let out a small laugh, noticing the twinkle in Hermione’s eyes. “Haven’t you been seeing anyone?”

Hermione shook her head. “Not as of late.”

“Oh come on Hermione, You’re a catch.”

She caught herself staring into his eyes, the twinkling blue eyes she had spent too many years longing for.

“It’s hard wanting to see someone when you’re still in love with someone else.” She commented softly.

Ron became suddenly aware of how close they had gotten. He could smell her perfume and it was sweetly familiar. Here she was, the woman he’d never forgotten all but professing her love for him. The woman who had married his brother and forced him to marry his wife to keep them safe. The woman who had lost not one but two of their unborn children. The woman who still held his heart and was now pouring hers out to him.

Unconsciously Ron reached up, putting his arm to rest on the cushion behind her. Unlike all of the other times they’d met over the years she wasn’t spurning his advances. She smiled warmly at him and the air felt hot between them. Ron’s cheeks had begun to hurt from all the smiling.

“How’s work?” Hermione asked of him.

“It’s good,” Ron answered, not pulling away. “Business is booming, we’ve been able to hire a bunch of seventh years for the summer as a part of an internship program Neville’s set up.”

“That’s incredible,” Hermione grinned. “You sound happy.”

“I am,” Ron grinned, “it’s thanks to the store we are able to finance all of these wonderful accommodations,” Ron gestured around the modest lake cabin proudly.

“I knew it would pay one day to be a Weasley,” Hermione quipped. “Annabelle must be proud.”

The corners of Ron’s mouth turned downward instantly. “I think she’s rather glad of my success.” Hermione could hear the strain in his voice. “She thinks I make enough now for her to quit and write a book.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked, “What about?”

“She’s not sure,” Ron answered. “It’s not that I don’t want to be supportive, it’s just I feel as though she just wants to quit working. It’d be different if she had an idea in mind for the book, but as of now she has nothing.”

“I see,” she answered.

“And she says she wants to stay and take care of Evelyn only she’s going to be a third year and she’s never done much taking care of our daughter anyway.”

“I wish you could be happier,” Hermione said softly, putting her hand on his arm gently.

He didn’t refute her, looking down at where they were touching and then gave her a genuine smile. There was a rustling outside of the window and they separated suddenly. Ron stood, peering out as he walked over. “I’m sure it’s just the kids trying to sneak over for who knows what.” He told her, looking out and seeing nothing.

“Ah to be young and have to sneak around your parents.” Hermione laughed, joining Ron in looking out the window. “I’d better be going over and saying my hellos.”

Ron smiled at her and without thinking, pulled her into a tight hug. "I'm glad you came Hermione," he whispered in her ear before letting her go. And if he wasn't mistaken, he could see her face flush as she pulled away. 

 

 


	4. Morning on the Dock

Stepping over James’ sleeping form, sprawled out across the cabin floor, Ron opened the door as softly as he could, balancing two cups of coffee in his arms. He’d awoken suddenly, with the excitement of a child who’d been waiting for an event which had finally arrived. Hoping to catch a few minutes alone with Hermione before he was met with the prying eyes of his slings and the chance to be overheard by one of their many nieces and nephews. He spied Hermione at the end of the dock, lounging in a chair with her nose in a book and her hair flying wildly around her face.

“Morning,” he said softly as he approached.

Hermione turned, offering him a wide smile and accepted her cup of coffee with thanks.

“You’re up early,” Hermione commented, watching with full attention as he sat himself down next to her.

“I ended up in the kid's bunk,” Ron told her as a way of explanation. “The kids are noisy. If I ever snored as loud as Evelyn, it’s a wonder how Harry ever managed to share a dorm for seven years.”

“Harry warned me before we went camping. I thought he was exaggerating but I don’t think anything could have prepared me.” Hermione chuckled. “I suppose I should count my blessings to be the only childless Weasley, it affords me a nice quiet bedroom to myself.”

“Let me know if you need any company,” Ron replied without thinking.

She looked over at him as if sizing him up and Ron felt a blush creep down his neck. Hermione let this pass, however, smiling to herself and taking a long drink of coffee.

“What are you reading?” Ron asked her to change the subject. He reached over to look at the book which was still open in her lap. “The Lives and Rumors of the Golden Trio?” Ron laughed to himself, hurriedly turning over the cover when she tried to snatch it from him. “Hermione, since when do you read this sort of trash?”

“I don’t,” she told him bitterly, a small blush on her face as he continued to read the back cover. “It was on the mantel and I figured I would see what the official story of our lives is nowadays.”

Well?” Ron asked eagerly, looking up at her.

“This one,” Hermione said, using his looking away to snatch the book back. “Seems to think Harry didn’t really fight in the final battle but a dummy died in his place.”

Ron laughed loudly as Hermione tucked the book beside her. “There we go, send a bunch of Harry’s into battle, one of them was bound to kill He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the end.”

“Seeing as you fought him you really should start calling him Voldemort.” Hermione quipped.

“Believe it or not I managed for a spell,” Ron’s smile faded and he looked out on the water. “Annabelle didn’t want Evelyn picking up on it.”

“Oh,” Hermione said quietly.

There was a pregnant pause as they stared out at the water, listening to it lap the dock. Across the way a fishing boat drifted with the waves, it’s occupants a tired pair of older men who sat in silence.

“How is Evelyn then?” Hermione asked, “About to start her third year right?”

“Yeah,” Ron’s smile returned as he thought of his daughter. “Brilliant she is, perfect marks on her exams, though she’s taking divination and I’d much rather she take Runes. I’m sure you heard she made the Quidditch team.” Ron was immensely proud of his daughter, high achieving in school and in her extracurricular activities. She was his favorite person to spend time with anymore. He thought back to their conversation just before they’d left for the lake. “She said you don’t pay much attention to her.”

There were tears dotting Hermione’s eyes and she spoke in a hushed voice. “I suppose it’s because I don’t.”

“Why’s that?” Ron asked, surprised at Hermione’s honestly.

“I always say it’s out of respect for your wife, I know she isn’t fond of me.” Hermione considered this for a moment and then added. “But really it’s rather hard looking at a girl who looks just like you and nothing like me.”

Ron felt his breath leave his chest. Whether intentional or not he knew the gravity behind Hermione’s statement. He knew he was far too old to be pinning for her after all this time but it was impossible to ignore statements like this.

“Do you resent her?” Ron asked softly, afraid of the answer.

“No,” Hermione answered without a pause. “Do you?”

“No,” Ron replied with equal swiftness. “Evelyn is the light of my life. She’s brilliant and kind and a ruddy good flyer.”

“But-” Hermione prompted.

“But,” Ron answered slowly, considering his words very carefully “I also know if it wasn’t for Evelyn I wouldn’t be with her mother.”

“Why did you stay with her?”

Hermione’s voice was soft again and Ron felt as if she was spilling a secret. It wasn’t an unreasonable question. Ron knew from the way his siblings spoke, behind doors at first and then in the open, that he looked positively miserable when he was around her. At first, he’d tried hard to convince everyone in his family that she made him happy by forcing her to come to every event, sticking by her side and forcing a smile on his face. But in time he had to admit to himself that they were right. A long time had passed since he’d stopped trying to convince them. Ron sighed, running his hand through his hair, making it stick up in all different directions.

“I knew Annabelle would end up with custody of Evelyn and I couldn’t stand being apart from her. Worse I feared she would turn Evelyn against me and my baby wouldn’t want anything to do with me anymore.” He answered her slowly, wanting to explain and have someone finally understand the position he’d found himself in for the past fifteen years of marriage. “I couldn’t risk her, not for a second.”

Hermione reached over and placed her hand gently on his arm. “Oh Ron, you know that would never happen. Evelyn adores you. She’s old enough now to make her own decisions and I doubt she’d even be here this weekend if she remotely felt that way about you.”

“I know that now,” Ron nodded, using the back of his sleeve to brush away the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “When she was younger though I knew Annabelle could. Evelyn deserves the best kind of life and if that means I stay married for her it’s a small sacrifice to make.”

“Has it always been that way?” Hermione asked sadly.

“We tried when we were first married but once the laws were repelled we grew more and more distant until I asked for the marriage to be annulled only to find out Evelyn was on the way and that was the end of the conversation.” Ron paused, thinking back to the weeks when they planned their separation only to find his whole life turned upside down again. “After that, I knew I could never leave her and she knew it too. The intimacy stopped after Evie was born though.”

Hermione’s eyebrows disappeared into her hair as her eyes shot open. “Entirely?” He nodded. “It’s been 14 years?”

Ron seemed just as surprised as she at how long it had been and he let out a long breath. Beside him Hermione seemed distraught, her mouth hanging open as she processed. “Have you ever, with anyone else I mean?”

“No,” Ron answered plainly. “There hasn’t been anyone else I’ve wanted to do it with.”

“Fourteen years,” Hermione repeated quietly to herself, staring at him. Hermione’s studious gaze seemed to look deeply into him. Her mouth parted, and Ron could perfectly picture a quill in-between her lips as she had always done with concentrating hard on an assignment. In fact, he felt like an assignment, something Hermione had tasked herself with solving. It made him uncomfortable.

“You act as I’ve just told you I’m dying,” Ron quipped, trying to keep the mood light.

“I had no idea you were so miserable,” Hermione said softly, reaching over and placed a hand over his. Their fingers intertwined without thought and he looked down at their hands, a warmth radiating through his body. “Oh Ron, I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry about Hermione,” he told her in the same light tone. “I’ve made my choices and I’ve got a really good life. It’s not like sex is everything.”

“I know that,” she said impatiently.

“And it’s not like your marriage is much better,” Ron continued.

Hermione visibly rolled her eyes but did not remove her hand from his. “Charlie and I have the understanding that we can see others whenever we feel the need to.” She paused, lost in thought. “It’s not like it’s a real marriage anyway.”

“Sounds like you’re not married at all,” Ron said before he could stop himself. “Just a piece of paper.”

Hermione looked at him again as if she was trying to solve a problem. “You were there Ron,” she told him quietly. “I wouldn’t have married him any other way.”

Ron knew this, these were the words he confronted his wife with constantly. They hadn’t any other choice. If it hadn’t been for Charlie, Hermione would have never survived the war and the laws would have never been appealed. They sat in the heavy silence which seemed to always be present between them. Ron was struck with how far they had drifted apart, and how little they knew of one another now. Before, there were no heavy silences, no long pauses. They never seemed to run out of things to talk about, things to say to one another, but since their marriages nothing was easy.

“I wish we could go back to a time where there weren’t silences that felt like they were never going to end,” Ron told her, wanting to name the tension between them.

To his surprise, Hermione looked at him with a puzzled expression. “There were always silences between us Ron,” Hermione told him. “Sometimes I think you’ve forgotten the bad parts of me entirely.” 

Hermione said this in such a matter of fact way, he was stunned for a moment. Ron knew their relationship had never been perfect, as no relationship was, but there had never been a long silence like this. He opened his mouth to refute her but was interrupted by a creaking on the dock and they both turned suddenly to find Evelyn walking out to them, her hair looking as if she’d just rolled out of bed and her blanket still wrapped around her. At the sight of her, Ron snatched his hand from Hermione’s as if realizing suddenly they’d been intertwined. Evelyn greeted them with a weak smile, her eyes puffy, and sat down cross-legged infront of her father, leaning back against his legs to support herself.

“You’re up early,” Ron said to his daughter, reaching out to straighten the collar of her pajamas.

“I heard you leave,” she said in a quiet voice, “Couldn’t get back to sleep with Dominique’s snoring.”

“Sure you didn’t hear yourself?” Ron teased and Evelyn turned to scowl at him before resuming her blank staring out at the calm waves lapping against the deck.

“Your father tells me you’re taking divination.” Hermione said conversationally.

Evelyn, seeming surprised to have Hermione speaking to her looked up and smiled. “I am, dad wanted me to take Runes but none of my friends are and I don’t fancy getting stuck with all of the Ravenclaws.”

“I keep telling you I was rubbish at it,” Ron told her, “Ask your Aunt.”

“Your father was never rubbish at anything,” Hermione said with a twinkle in her eyes. “He simply chose when to apply himself.”

Evelyn smiled up at her father.

“Most of his predictions came true, to be honest, granted they were of your Uncle Harry and I would say your father knew him a bit too well.”

“Ha, Harry and I just made up the worst possible predictions, Trewlany ate all of that up I think she was pleased when bad things kept happening to Harry.” Ron reminded her.

“Trelawney?” Evelyn asked.

“She was our professor,” Ron said. “Batty that woman was.”

Hermione did not refute him and Ron laughed quietly to himself, remembering for a moment how much Hermione had hated not being the best in something.

“She’s the one who made the prophecy about Harry,” Hermione said conversationally. “About him defeating Voldemort.”

Evelyn did a half jump at the name and then turned to her father for confirmation. “Really? You had her as a professor?”

Ron nodded. “We didn’t know she was the one who made the prophecy until later. Seers are very fickle with their predictions.”

This fueled his daughter with questions and Evelyn began to rapid fire them at him. Ron looked over at Hermione to find her looking rather pleased and entertained by the inquiries his daughter was making. The questions about Divination continued as they walked up the boardwalk and into the home where word quickly spread and one person’s questions became the questions of a dozen more.

It wasn’t until lunch that Ron was able to break away from the gaggle of children wanting to know about the war and their time at school. He cornered Hermione, intent on setting her straight about what they were telling the children and what they weren’t about their involvement with the war. Hermione spotted him and with a smile told him. “It’s clear she has her father’s inquisitive spirit.”

And Ron found himself at a loss for words.

 


	5. Night Out

No one had been able to decide where to eat and no one had been able to decide where to get drinks after either. After arguing with Percy for almost 20 minutes about how they should get back so Audrey and Victorie weren’t stuck with the kids all night, _Godric Hermione was glad she didn’t have kids_ she, Ron and Harry had broken off from the group, accepting the well wishes of Ginny and set off for the pub across the street. It wasn’t anything spectacular but the drinks were cold and they were able to get a booth just to the three of them near the bar and they settled in, Harry next to her and Ron taking up the other side. 

It had been years since it had just been the three of them, in fact, Hermione couldn’t remember the last time after the tent the three of them had been left alone for more than 20 minutes. Yes, Hermione enjoyed Ginny as much as she enjoyed anyone but sitting there, in the musty, aged bar with her two best friends made Hermione feel ten years younger. Well, her best friend and her married ex, all of them now related. Still, with them, the conversation was never forced as the three of them talked, sharing stories of work and laughing about being eleven and thinking Snape was the one stealing the sorcerer's stone. Yes, it was nice being alone with the two people she missed most in the world.

Time passed without them noticing and when Hermione stood up to use the loo she noticed with a start the street had gone dark outside. She stumbled back to the table, the smile which had been on her face all night was beginning to hurt her cheeks. When she returned, sliding in next to Harry who put his arm around her automatically, Ron’s eyes were on her, staring at her with intensity. Noticing Harry staring at them Ron blushed, muttering something about getting another round and left them, stumbling as he walked.

“I expect I won’t see you in the morning,” Harry had turned suddenly and was looking at her seriously. “Stay in touch Hermione, we miss you.”

It took Hermione a long imbibed moment to understand what he was saying. She wanted to correct him, knew she should shout out in disgust, but Harry knew her as well as he knew anyone and she knew he hadn’t been missing the looks she and Ron had been passing all night, all weekend.

“Harry,” she whispered to him, wondering why now he was giving his approval. “Do you remember the day after your wedding?”

Harry thought for a moment and then nodded, looking down in shame.

“What’s different?” she asked him, knowing she’d never be able to ask again. “He’s married and has a child-“

“Who is the only joy in his life,” Harry told her. “Back then Ron was most miserable when you left. Now he spends most of his time being miserable. It’s been nice to see him smile while you’ve been here.”

A fresh wave of guilt washed over Hermione and Harry put his arm around her in goodbye, kissing the side of her head. Before Hermione had enough sense to protest, Harry rose, joining Ron at the bar who was getting them another round. He talked to Ron for a brief moment, clapped him on the back and disappeared out the door with a final wave to Hermione.

Ron seemed less confused than she at Harry’s sudden departure and set down their beers before sliding into the seat Harry had vacated next to Hermione. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, his full smile which had always made her feel as though there was no one else in the room. It felt ten degrees warmer as her body flushed, his cologne intoxicating.

“Harry’s left me with the tab.” He told her in a soft voice. “Goes to show you he’s been a gold digger all along waiting for my success.”

Hermione laughed at how ridiculous the statement had been and when she stopped Ron was still smiling at her like she was the only person alive.

Harry had always been her moral compass and with his permission her brain was struggling to remember the reasons she shouldn’t be leaning in closer to Ron, making the breathy noises which drove him crazy and allowing his hand to move slowly up her bare thigh. His blue eyes were as magnetic as ever and he licked his lips as his head tilted, his long nose brushing against her cheek as if it had forgotten exactly where to land. The arm around her shoulder pulled her in closer and she breathed him in.

She turned to find his face inches from hers and wanting to feel his warm skin on her lips, pressed a tentative kiss to his cheek. He would have to make the first move. He was the one in a closed marriage, she couldn’t be the one to make things miserable for him again as she had all those years ago, sitting in Harry’s kitchen when she had kissed him first.

Ron’s lips curved into a smile at the contact and inched his face to the side so his lips were close to hers. She kissed him again, catching the corner of his mouth which was upturned in a smile. She closed her eyes, knowing where her lips would land and not wanting to have her eyes open and face rejection.

But of course, he didn’t reject her. Their lips met in a familiar sort of kiss, soft and slow. Hermione felt a heat flush over her body and found herself yearning for more, for this moment to never end and the opportunity to be with him again fully. She suddenly found herself not caring he was married and so was she. In fact, Hermione couldn’t find one good reason at all not to leave here together and sneak back into her empty bedroom.

 

She half expected him to bid her goodnight as they reached the cabin, she was beginning to get his wits about her and knew it was much more risky to be seen with all of the nosey children hanging around. But Hermione didn’t drop Ron’s hand, peeking around the gate to the house before pulling him into another kiss, feeling much more desperate, as if this was all about to end. But there were no children milling about, the house was silent and when she checked her watch Hermione became aware it was much later than either had noticed.

Silently she pushed open the gate, beckoning Ron with one finger to follow her and then held out her hand to take. His warm, calloused hands felt familiar in hers as she led him through the front door and into the empty living room. James was asleep on the couch again, his mouth wide open and snoring. They crept back to the bedrooms and when Hermione stumbled over the uneven flooring, Ron’s hand wrapped around her waist to steady her. Hermione looked back at him then, searching his eyes as if they would give her a reason to turn back. But the hunger in his eyes had grown as he looked her over in the dim light and with a newfound sense of bravery she grasped the door and pushed it open.

Instantly his arms were around her again, kissing her deeply and kicking the door behind him. It echoed and Hermione fished her wand out of her pocket to cast a silencing charm while he lifted her from the ground, stumbling forward over some luggage and they tumbled onto the bed, Ron hovering above her and kissing her deeply. Hermione was unaware of how long they had been kissing for. It felt so natural, so easy that she couldn’t quite remember why she had ever stopped kissing him. She felt something in her stir that hadn’t been touched for years. Her body melted to his touch and she felt his hands easing up her top, fingers splayed across her abdomen.

He slowed and when Hermione opened her eyes he was looking at her with such a hunger, such a need that she didn’t think she could stop the path they now found themselves on even if she needed to. After all, she had spent years longing for this. For his lips tracing familiar paths on her bare skin and his hands inching up her blouse exposing her flushed skin. All Hermione wanted now was for their bodies to be together, for his eyes to flutter and his lips to be moaning her name.

Hermione’s fingers reached for the bottom of his shirt and she hoisted it off of him before throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him down with all her strength so he crashed against her. The fervor and intensity by which they moved reminded Hermione only that this was about to be over. She thought of the night after she’d graduated Hogwarts when she’d made the foolish decision of spending the night in his bed and he’d held her like she was about to leave him for forever. Each time they met anymore it was with the intensity of knowing they’d never see each other again.

The door sprung open and they flew apart, Hermione hiding her head in shame. The intruder said nothing from the doorway and when Hermione finally convinced herself to look up, it was Charlie who was standing there, unmoving and trying to process what he was seeing. Tears sprang to Hermione’s eyes, not out of remorse for her actions but rather for the fact she’d been caught, caught by the person who had saved her all those years ago and it now put them all in a deeply uncomfortable situation.

“When did you get in?” Hermione asked dryly, unable to meet his eyes fully.

“About an hour ago,” he replied coldly, looking between the two of them as if trying to decide who he was more surprised at. “I was catching up with Bill.”

Hermione looked around to find the bags they had stumbled over were his, now scattered around the ground. She thought for a moment about trying to lie about what he had witnessed, but she knew he wasn’t stupid and while they weren’t technically in a romantic relationship, her actions would not garner Charlie’s approval. She glanced over at Ron who was staring determinedly at the floor, his face beet red.

“How long has this been going on?” Charlie said in an almost whisper.

“It hasn’t,” replied Ron’s voice from beside her.

“Ah,” said Charlie in clearly a disbelieving voice.

Hermione buried her face into her hands, staring down at her knees. This couldn’t be happening. She felt as if she were going to be sick.

“You’re married,” Charlie said suddenly.

“So are you,” Ron spat back suddenly and when Hermione chanced another glance over at him he was looking at Charlie determinedly.

“You have a child,” Charlie said just as coldly.

Ron glanced around the room suddenly as if Evelyn would be found peaking in a window. “Mind shutting the door? I really don’t fancy waking everyone.”

“Right, you don’t fancy waking everyone,” Charlie replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s why you decided to have sex in a cabin with half your family asleep five feet away.”

Ron glared at his brother but shied farther away from Hermione still. There was a pressing, uncomfortable silence as Charlie and Ron stared at each other, looks of intense dislike carved into their faces. Hermione found herself glancing between them quickly as she racked her brain for something to say. Nothing came to her besides going over in her head again and again how it had felt to be kissing Ron, how ashamed she was now that they’d been caught, but still not feeling guilty for her actions.

It was Ron who broke the tension. Without breaking eye contact with Charlie he scooped down, picking up his discarded shirt and stood. With as much dignity as he could muster in the situation, he walked defiantly across the room and bushed past Charlie, not looking once back at Hermione, and disappeared down the darkened hallway.

Hermione stared after him, mouth agape. She found herself furious with Charlie who had moved to block the doorway as if physically telling her not to follow. Willing herself not to cry, she stopped up her own top and threw it over her head. Half-formed thoughts raced through her head as she tried to come up with the words to properly scold Charlie.

“You,” she spat at him, standing up and glaring at him. “You have no right to be mad at me. You haven’t returned any of my owls, you don’t let me know where you are, you don’t even visit with you’re in the country! Don’t act like we have a relationship because we don’t Charlie, we have a piece of paper.”

“You know why we got married,” Charlie answered, sounding rather level-headed in comparison.

“Yes,” Hermione answered. “I know that you saved me Charlie, but that was fourteen years ago and I won’t let you hold that over my head now when I’ve offered plenty of times to leave you.”

Charlie stared at her hard for a moment and then visibly rolled his eyes. “I’m not cross with you. You have as much of a right to sleep with anyone you want to as I do.”

“What’s your issue then?” Hermione snapped. “Why’d you have to barge in my room?”

“Our room,” he answered her, gesturing to his stuff.

Hermione cast a long, loathing look at his scattered belongings. “Well have it then.” She stood up suddenly, intent only on leaving the room so she could have a good cry and not infant of the person who was going to be making her. “If you’d had the decency to let me know you were coming I would have figured something else out.”

She moved to storm past him but he caught her arm in the doorway and looked at her seriously while he spoke in a low voice. “I’m not cross with you. He’s the one who has a kid Hermione. Evelyn is the one who will get fucked over in the crossfire.”

Before she could react he dropped her arm and in shock Hermione left the room, shutting the door softly behind her. She didn’t know where to go now. Every inch of her screamed to leave, to go somewhere, anywhere else but her wand was back in the room and she didn’t have the bravery to go back. She thought about going after Ron, but she had no clue where he’d gone off to. She knew what Charlie would say if he saw them together again and didn’t think she could stand the shame.

Still feeling dizzy she turned to the next door, pushing it open with a soft knock. She needn’t worry about waking up the occupants of the next room because they already sat awake, sitting up in bed and listening.

“I take it my silencing charm didn’t hold,” Hermione whispered and Ginny hurried out of bed, gathering Hermione into her arms and ushering her to sit down on the bed.

“Oh Hermione,” Ginny whispered, pushing Hermione’s hair from her face.

Hermione stared at her friend, unable to stop the tears which now were leaking from her eyes. She had been foolish to even consider sleeping with him. Charlie had been right, no matter their relation it didn’t change the fact that Ron was married, married to the woman she had forced him to marry. He was the father to her niece, the one she couldn’t even look at. Hermione buried her face in her hands and was aware of Ginny’s hurried whispering.

“You were right Harry,” Hermione managed in a choked sob. “I can’t keep messing with him.”

“Hermione-“ Harry tried but she sniffled. “I’m sorry.”


	6. A Future

Ron awoke to semi-darkness, not quite sure he’d slept at all. His head felt foreign from his body and when he looked around the room his eyes moved quicker than his brain could process. Wishing he’d had the foresight to conjure a glass of water the night before, and not trusting his voice to be quiet enough to not disturb the half dozen occupants of the room full of bunkbed’s he found himself stuck in, Ron made his mind to exiting as quickly as possible and hoping he could stall his churning stomach until he free. 

The chilly morning air hit him harder than he had thought and he felt slapped awake. The main house’s lights were still off much to Ron’s dismay so he made for the dock where he and Hermione had been sharing early morning chats. As he had been all night, Ron found himself pondering exactly what had happened, feeling stuck on a record, trying to make sense of what had happened. A part of him hoped that by going over the events over and over again in his mind he could begin to feel remorse for attempting to cheat on his wife, but Ron found his overriding emotion was still anger and frustration of being caught.

He thought back to the previous night’s events as he ventured out onto the dock. Ron hadn’t wanted the night to end. It had been ages since he’d been alone with Hermione and Harry. There was no explaining his jokes or silent judgment at their morbid sense of humor. He hadn’t felt so carefree since Hogwarts. It was nice to not have to monitor himself.

When Hermione had gotten up to go to the bathroom, he hadn’t known he was staring at her retreating form until he felt Harry’s inquisitive eyes on him. Harry looked mildly displeased and made a show of checking his watch.

“You should go,” Ron had suggested. “We’ve got it here.”

Harry had stared at him for a long moment. Ron half expected the long, silent stare which Harry gave whenever interrogating someone or when waiting for one of his kids to confess. Instead, Harry asked, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

And when didn’t answer Harry continued, “She’ll leave in the morning.”

Ron knew this. Since the war had ended, Hermione had never stayed. It seemed that winning the war relinquished her from her responsibility to care for them. When he was younger this had always bothered him. All throughout school, she had been the one to care for his emotional well being, why had winning the war given her permission to stop?

But then, sometime between having a daughter and Annabelle’s growing indifference towards him, Ron realized that it had been unfair for them to expect so much of her and give very little in return. It hadn’t been winning the war which had caused her to stop. It was somewhere along the line that Hermione gave herself permission to take care of herself, and he hadn’t risen to that challenge.

He should have paid more attention to her when they’d gone to Australia and been unable to reverse the spell she had cast on her parents to keep them safe. So consumed in his own grief, Ron had pulled her away from more attempts. Back then he thought it would have been more cruel, having to continually see the people who’d brought her into this world show no sign of recognition. He’d urged her to go back home with him. Not because he thought it’d help Hermione process but rather because he didn’t want to be away from his family any longer. Ron had known even then Hermione had wanted to stay longer, but thought it better for her to be back with his family where they both could be comforted.

Over their years in school, he’d grown so used to her caring for his emotional wellbeing that he had assumed she would just continue to care for them. Being in a relationship he thought she would give even more, and she did give more and more. Writing letters to him from Hogwarts twice as often as he did, always asking how he was feeling, and reminding him that they had a future to look forward to.

Back then he’d reason that it was okay he was writing her less. The concentrated Auror training program was surely much more demanding than seventh year. There was plenty from training he couldn’t tell her. He’d told himself that Hermione was the much better writer anyway and she enjoyed sending him letters much more than he enjoyed writing to her.

And at the Christmas Holiday, every time one of them had started to cry he’d initiated sex so they wouldn’t have to deal with their emotions. Deal with the grief from losing the family they loved. It wasn’t until years later that Ginny let it slip that Hermione would wake her up late at night just to talk. Ron had been a terrible partner to her then, asking more and more of her until she simply couldn’t give anymore. At 41 he could understand in a way he hadn’t been able to at 25 or 17. It was no wonder she hadn’t confided in him the loss of their child. Why would she turn to him for comfort when he hadn’t spent much time comforting her at all?

The half dozen times he saw her in the intervening years between the end of their relationship and her return from Italy they had resorted to sex rather than approaching their feelings. It had seemed pointless to talk about how he was feeling when most of their relationship, in the end, had been physical. It seemed only natural that they’d tried to get each other into bed. It was the much less painful alternative than talking about how they really felt and trying to change the path they were on.

In the years since their respective marriages, seeing Hermione had steadily become more and more painful. Unable to properly talk with her without being interrupted by his wife, they had resorted to stolen glances across the room and someone leaving in tears. Ron had tried convinced himself he only wanted Hermione because he could not have her, that the reason he felt so strongly for her was because his marriage was so miserable. Perhaps he was trying to get back at Annabelle by harboring feelings for the person his wife hated the most. But every time he saw her he melted.

Without their spouses' presence, Ron had found himself alone with Hermione for the first time in years. The secret thoughts he’d been harboring inside for years had come spilling out. How miserable he was, that it had been years since his wife had touched him. Ron hadn’t been doing this to get pity, speaking to Hermione it seemed natural to spill his secrets. No one in this world knew him better.

And when they’d been drunk in the bar he felt seventeen again, waiting for Harry to leave so they could pounce each other. And once again, just as he had in the intervening years of their initial break-up and the world falling apart, Ron had resorted to sex rather than telling Hermione how he’d really felt.

He heard the creaking of the deck and turned quickly, only to find Hermione looking equally as puffy eyed and miserable. She was balancing two cups of coffee in her hands and looked startled. Hermione opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again, offering him a cup of coffee.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk to me.” She said softly, hovering beside him clearly uncertain if she should sit down.

For a moment Ron considering banishing her. He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk with her about what had happened and certainly didn’t want to be caught by Charlie again. But he knew he didn’t have anyone else to talk to about this, no one else would understand how he felt about her, how they felt about each other. Even Harry would judge him for what they’d done.

Instead, he gave a shaky smile and gestured to the empty chair he’d found her in the morning before. She offered him a cup of coffee before sinking into the chair beside him, unable to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered almost instantly. “I shouldn’t have-“

“Shouldn’t have what?” Ron asked of her.

“Have tried to seduce you,” Hermione told him in an equally small voice.

Ron gaped at her. This hadn’t been how he saw it at all. It was he who’d been flirting with her since she’d arrived. He was the one who always found a way to sit next to her at every meal and every time they’d relocated from the garden to the living room.

“You didn’t seduce me, Hermione.” He told her. “I knew what was happening last night, it’s not like you got me drunk and tricked me into bed with you.”

Hermione didn’t seem satisfied with this and sighed. “I just feel like since we broke up the first time I keep coming back here and ruining you.”

“You sure think a lot of yourself.” Ron quipped. “You don’t ruin me, Hermione. It’s not like you slipped me a spiked potion somewhere along the way. I want you more than I can put into words.”

Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it, watching him carefully.

“I’m the one who asked Harry to leave alright? I’m the one who kissed you. I’m the one who’s spent the entire weekend flirting with you and telling you how long it’s been since I got laid. I’m the one who's been in love with you since I was a child.”

Her hands flew up to her mouth. “Oh Ron,” she gasped, tears shining in her eyes.

Despite his earlier reflection he hadn’t meant to let so many of his thoughts slip. For a moment he wondered if he was still drunk. Unable to take back what had been said, Ron stared at her, hard waiting for her to refuse him. For a long moment, he could see her thinking quickly, could almost imagine the thoughts racing through her head and then she dropped her hands to reveal a smile which almost tore her face apart.

“I’m in love with you.” She told him effortlessly as if the words had always been waiting to roll off her tongue. “I’ve always been in love with you.”

Ron could hardly believe his ears. After all this time, after every game, they had played and every bad decision either of them had made, all was not lost.

“I want to be with you,” he told her suddenly, unable to imagine any other future after hearing the words he’d been wanting to hear for years. “I mean properly. We’ve wasted too much of our lives not being together.”

He expected her to jump up, to shake her head and run away from him. For all they talked about wanting to be together it seemed truly impossible that it could actually happen.

“Okay,” she agreed, looking pleased but anxious.

“What?” he asked, surprised at her.

“Okay, yes, let’s do it,” Hermione repeated, tears coming to her eyes.

“You’re serious?” he asked her, jumping up in shock.

Hermione joined him, throwing her arms around him and he could feel her shaking with joy. He could feel all of his worried falling off of him as he held her in his arms.

“Of course I am,” she said, sniffling and when he looked down at her she’d started to cry. “Of course I want to be with you, Ron. I’ve been in love with you since we were children. Nothing has ever made me stop.”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tightly. He wanted to kiss her but stopped at the last second when he spied the house and knew the odds were someone was watching. “We’re doing this.”

“We’re doing it,” Hermione agreed happily, beaming up at him.

They stood there, swaying slightly on the dock as wave after wave of joy crashed over him. He couldn’t believe he’d wasted so much time when he had always known where his happiness was.

“Wait,” he paused, as the weight of it came crashing down on him. “How are we doing this?”

The joy ebbed from Hermione’s face as she adopted a more serious look. With their arms still around each other, he could see her thinking quickly, formulating a plan.

“We’ll have to wait until after this weekend to announce it, maybe a little longer. I’ll start the papers with Charlie as soon as we get home.”

Ron nodded eagerly. “I should probably wait until Evelyn is back in school.”

“We shouldn’t tell anyone for a while, give the dust some time to settle,” Hermione continued. “Maybe six months, a year?”

“We can visit each other on the weekends,” Ron told her, “It’ll give me time to look for a job in Italy.”

Hermione gave him a bemused look and then let out a small laugh. “Or the other way around. Our whole family is here, I think it makes much more sense for me to move back to England. That way Evelyn can come stay with you for the Holidays.”

For the first time in a long time he could picture his whole future, they’d purchase the small cottage by Harry’s which he’d always wanted to buy. He wouldn’t spend every weekend working at the shop, eager to stay away from his home. Ron had never felt so overjoyed. He wanted to kiss her then, snog her until she was as breathless as he felt now. His whole life felt as though he’d been waiting for this moment when he was able to tell the world about the woman he loved when he was able to hold her hand whenever he felt it and stare at her for hours without being told off.

“We’re going to be together,” he whispered to her.

Hermione beamed up at him, wiping the tears from his face with the pads of her fingers. “We’re going to be together.”

 


	7. Ron's Choice

Over the next few days, it was hard to contain his excitement. Ron knew he was doing a poor job of it, disappearing for hours at a time only to emerge feeling giddy and trying to make it seem as though he had just been in the loo or just out of sight. He knew he was being obvious and found that he didn’t care, his happiness had been on the back burner for years, it was time for him to be selfish. Now that he’d finally spoken how he felt, now that he had finally gotten the girl of his dreams to agree to spend her life with him it seemed that nothing could burst his bubble. 

He was sneaking back from the cove he and Hermione had discovered the night before when he spied in the distance Harry, watching Evelyn and Dominque play with something a few feet away. Ron approached Harry with a grin, wanting to share in him the good news. He had been waiting, trying to find a time to pull his best friend aside for days in order to confide in him what they had decided.

Harry, however, looked less than pleased when Ron approached, staring at him with a stern expression.

“She came after you,” Harry told him as a way of explanation of his presence.

Ron felt his heart sinking. Evelyn looked up, beaming at him and weakly he waved back. It was as if he’d been doused in cold water. In the past few days, he’d found himself thinking very little of Evelyn, the person whom he loved most in this world. How could he have forgotten her?

“She’s also been asking if Annabelle’s going to be joining us on Sunday for dinner,” Harry continued, his arms still crossed over his chest.

“What?” Ron asked in surprise and Harry shook his head slowly.

“I’m just letting you know,” Harry answered.

And all at once a future with Hermione seemed very selfish and very far away. Suddenly he felt covered in a layer of grime which no amount of showering would wash off. Ron found himself unable to look in his daughter’s direction and instead focused on Harry who was watching him with a neutral expression.

“She’s never going to understand.” Ron finally managed. “I could tell her everything, but she’s not going to get it."

“No, she’s not,” Harry agreed.

“She knows Annabelle and I don’t love each other, doesn’t she?” Ron asked of his friend, the only other person in the world who understood how strongly he felt for Hermione. He felt anger growing in his chest and how unfair this situation was. “She has to know we’re not in love.”

Harry didn’t say anything.

“But it doesn’t matter either way, whether Evelyn knows or not because even if I told her everything, all that would matter to her is that her parents were splitting up and her father was running off with her aunt who Evelyn is convinced doesn’t like her,” Ron said. He felt a rush of anger ebb at his disappointment. “She has to understand, she has to see how miserable we are.”

“Even if she does,” Harry said in a low voice. “Even if she knows, she’s too young to properly understand.”

Harry was right. Of course, Harry was right. There was no justifying his own actions given how Evelyn would react to this. Evelyn, his only daughter, the only person in this world who he loved endlessly. All of his life Ron had worked hard to protect her, give her anything to make her happy. How could he be considering this?

“You could leave her,” Harry offered softly. “Annabelle. Give it a rest, maybe in a few years—”

“I don’t see a way out of this without making Evelyn feel like I’ve betrayed her,” Ron said in a final sort of tone. “And I can’t do that to her Harry, not now.”

Harry studied him for a moment and then gave a somber nod.

“Why were you okay with it?” Ron asked suddenly, wanting to put the blame on someone else for what he’d done.

“I was drunk,” Harry excused himself immediately. “And I thought it was just sex.”

“How could you think it was just sex?” Ron demanded. “Of all people, you should know how in love with her I am.”

It seemed this fact had indeed escaped Harry. There was a flicker of awareness on his face and then it seemed to dawn on him all at once, rushing through emotions. Stupidly he asked, “After all these years?”

“I never stopped,” Ron told him without sparing a moment’s thought.

They stood in silence, watching the girls play. Ron wished very much to be alone in his feelings and was grateful that when Hermione passed a quarter of an hour later, Harry steered her away from them and back to the cottage. Ron avoided the house as much as he could for the remainder of the day. When the kids wanted to go for a walk into town to buy sweets he volunteered, rushing out the door before Hermione could offer to come too. Guilt seemed to be eating away at him, piled on every time Hermione smiled at him or gave him a wave. At times Ron could almost bring himself to rationalized being with her, telling his daughter about his true feelings and promising her nothing would change. But Harry was right. His responsibility wasn’t to the women he loved, it was to the life he created.

Without Hermione at his side, Evelyn resumed her place as his right hand, drawing him with her wherever she went. Insisting he help them craft a fort out of sticks and informing him about the fight Teddy and Victorie were having. It was familiar and with his daughter, the day passed quickly, too quickly for still he was dreading the conversation to come, the rejection he was going to have to serve.

 

 

 

“Where’s Charlie?” Ron asked, coming into the room behind her.

It was after dinner. The family was gathered outside around a fire James and Fred had insisted on. Through the windows Ron could still hear their voices, laughing and talking freely.

“Off with Fred and Bill I expect,” she answered easily, shutting the door. “I’m just in here to pack my things. I’ve been kipping in Harry’s room.”

She reached out, tugging on the hem of his shirt and looked up at him eagerly. Desperately Ron wanted to kiss her, but he forced himself to stick with his convictions. Hermione looked at him quizzically and he settled on a hug, wrapping her tightly in his arms. He felt himself melt into her and wished desperately again to turn back time and to change what had happened. If it had just been him if only Evelyn hadn’t been a consideration.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as if reading his mind and he forced a smile onto his face.

“Let’s sit down,” Ron said, keeping his arm around her shoulder and guided her to the bed.

He could feel her watching him as they settled, side by side on the bed and found himself unable to meet her eyes. Several times he opened his mouth to tell her but was unable to muster the courage. He suddenly understood with newfound respect how difficult it must have been for her to write that letter at nineteen, but how much easier it was to the alternative.

“Ron?” Hermione asked softly, putting her hand over his.

He looked up at her finally and found an understanding smile on her face.

“We’re not doing this, are we?”

Slowly, he shook his head, gripping her hand in his. Hermione bit her lip, tears in her eyes.

“I can’t do this to Evelyn, not now.” He answered her.

If it had been Annabelle he knew how she would have reacted. There would have been screaming and iciness to her voice. She would have put on a whole show of crying and making him feel guilty for thinking of anyone or anything before her. He had gotten so used to her fighting he tensed himself for the first verbal blow.

“I understand,” she managed.

But this wasn’t Annabelle, this was Hermione. And Hermione was so reasonable and logical that she nodded, squeezing his hand again.

“Maybe in a few years, once she’s out of Hogwarts and can understand,” Ron said, wanting to prolong the moment she was still sitting beside him and of the years of silence he knew would follow this encounter.

“I know,” Hermione agreed. “I know, it’s okay.”

Another pang of frustration rushed through him as he thought about reasonable Hermione was being, how adult even though he knew she was feeling the same pain as he was. Ron wanted nothing more than to take it back than to be able to figure out a way to make this work, to change the course they were on. He felt her hand slip from his and he looked over at her, expecting her to stand up and continue with her packing. Hermione was staring at him with an intensity he hadn’t felt in years. It was as if she was trying to memorize him. Her eyes moved in slow and deliberate patterns across his face. He found himself staring into her eyes, afraid suddenly that there wouldn’t be another time, another opportunity to fulfill his dreams ever again.

“I will never feel for anyone the way I feel for you.” He whispered, needing for her to understand.

This had the intended effect and when she began to let the tears fall from her eyes, so did he. Hermione’s hand began to gently rub his back and when he bowed his head, she pressed his face into his chest, gently stroking his hair and allowing his arms to wrap tightly around her, trying to pin her to this moment.

“I’ve always loved you,” Hermione whispered into his ear, pressing her face against his head and her hair blinded his vision. “I can’t believe I’m not going to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“It’s for Evelyn,” he reminded her softly. He wasn’t quite sure if he was reminding her or himself more.

“I know,” she answered nevertheless.

He was unsure for how long they sat there intertwined. Hours could have passed, or maybe days. Several times he found himself wanting to kiss her, but when he looked up she would simply stroke his face and give him the same watery smile. Finally, he knew that he had to go, that they’d already risked enough time alone with one another, and pulled away from her slowly.

 

By morning she was already gone. Harry, unable to quite meet his eyes told him that she’d snuck off in the night, desperately needed at the office. No one else seemed to find suspicion in her sudden departure, Ron found himself moping around the cabin, avoiding Ginny who kept trying to corner him and demand a story. Charlie seemed to give him great breadth, though he was no longer visibly angry at him. So consumed in his own misery Ron didn’t notice Evelyn, who as always was watching and painfully in tune to how miserable her father looked.


	8. Understanding

“Aunt Ginny?” Evelyn asked as she helped with dishes. “Can I ask you something?” 

It had been a week since they’d returned from the lake. Evelyn had been working herself up to talking to her dad again about his relationship with Aunt Hermione, but since returning he seemed nowhere to be found. In the brief times she did see him he looked more miserable than ever. He hadn’t offered to take her to the store with them which was usually where they’d spent their last week before she left him for school, and something about his mood had made her not want to ask. Feeling as though her father wouldn’t provide her with the answers she had been searching for, Evelyn made up her mind to ask the next best thing, her Aunt and Uncle.

“Sure dear, what is it?” Ginny responded, waving her wand to make the chairs push themselves in.

Evelyn felt her throat get very dry suddenly and busied herself with the bowl she had been drying.

“Do you remember that night at the lake when we were painting nails?” she said cautiously.

“Sure,” she said, eyeing her carefully.

Evelyn had the notion that her Aunt already knew why they had snuck over to the other cabin, curious about sneaking a drink at James suggestion. Evelyn faltered, looking up at her aunt and clamoring up. It hadn’t been her idea. She’d been sent because no one thought she’d get in trouble for it.

“If you’ve done something I daresay your father or uncles have done it and worse.” Ginny continued, smirking and moving her attention back to the sink.

Evelyn flushed scarlet. “No, it’s not about that.” She muttered, busying herself with putting up the dishes to hide her face.

“Sure,” Ginny said with a laugh, “Honestly Evelyn we charmed the bottles so unless one of you has mastered switching spells to change your hair back then I know you didn’t do anything.”

“What color would it have turned?” Evelyn asked despite herself.

“Bright blue,” Ginny winked, paying little mind to her niece’s next statement.

“Were my dad and Aunt Hermione friends?” Evelyn peered at her aunt from the corner of her eye.

Ginny had frozen completely, the glass in her hand dangerously close to slipping to the floor. Carefully and slowly she turned to look at her niece, sizing her up. Evelyn could feel herself wanting to squirm under her Aunt’s careful eye.

“Sure,” Ginny said slowly. “We’re all friends.”

“No, I mean back at Hogwarts. It’s just- before we left James was doing homework and found this article about Uncle Harry and it talked about Hermione and I know Harry was his best mate and when I tried asking dad-“ Evelyn said all of this very quickly in one breath. She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. “I tried asking dad about it but he never answered me and then I saw them at the lake-“

“You saw them at the lake?” Ginny shouted.

Evelyn froze, staring at her Aunt with wide eyes, wishing she’d never said anything. But Ginny’s shouting had attracted her husband and Harry came rushing in from the other room, looking around for his own children misbehaving before staring at Evelyn in surprise.

“What’s going on?” he asked, pocketing his wand and putting his arm around his wife protectively.

“Evelyn said she saw Ron and Hermione at the lake,” Ginny said shortly and Evelyn felt as though she was saying something very wrong.

“Doing what?” Harry asked conversationally, but his eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

“Talking.” Evelyn managed, feeling suddenly as if she was going to be in trouble for what she’d seen.

They shared a meaningful look before Harry sat down at the table, gesturing for Evelyn to do the same. She took the seat she’d been sitting in at dinner, across from her aunt and uncle who stared at her seriously.

“Why were you asking about them?” Harry asked in the same light tone but Evelyn knew from experience he was investigating her.

Evelyn filled her Uncle in on the newspaper clipping James had found and the attempted conversation she’d had with her father. She wanted to tell someone, anyone what she’d seen and couldn’t make sense of. Why had her father lied to her about her aunt? What was the great secret about their relationship that Evelyn was not allowed to know?

“Yes,” Harry answered with a great sigh and he suddenly looked as though he was in pain as he spoke. “Ron, Hermione, and I were all friends at Hogwarts. Best friends actually.”

“What happened?” Evelyn asked at once, eager to get more information, feeling she was on the cusp of something important. “Why don’t my dad and Aunt Hermione talk anymore?”

Uncle Harry opened his mouth to say something but her Aunt spoke faster. “That’s a conversation you need to have with your father.”

“I’ve already tried that,” Evelyn answered with a sigh, crossing her arms across her chest. “He just ignored the question.”

Sensing her frustration, Ginny reached out a hand, placing it gently on her crossed arms. “Evelyn we can’t tell you what happened because we aren’t them.”

“I know I just,” she uncrossed her arms, closing her eyes at the memory. “Dominique and I sunk out that first night to -er-“

“Take a walk?” Ginny offered.

Evelyn peeked open one eye to find her Aunt grinning at her. “Er, yes, a walk, and when we got to the other cabin I saw Hermione and my dad sitting on the couch laughing with one another.” She looked to her Uncle and saw him soften as she spoke. Pleading to him she added. “He seemed really happy and I was just wondering what happened. It’s nice to see my dad happy.”

Harry looked considerably more miserable when Evelyn finished and Ginny was attempting to smile at her but it was coming out as more of a grimace.

“I guess I just wish I knew what happened because-“ Evelyn felt another wave of sadness wash over her again as she thought back to the first thought she’d had that night, spying on her father as he laughed. “Was my dad ever happy?”

“Of course your father is happy, he loves you very much,” Ginny said automatically in an assuring tone.

“I know that,” she answered impatiently. “I know he’s happy with me and with you guys —I guess— was he ever that happy with my mum?”

Harry and Ginny stared at each other for a considerable time. Ginny seemed ready to burst but Harry looked as though he’d aged several years in the course of the conversation. He shook his head as Ginny spoke.

“Evelyn,” he said carefully in a tone used to explain something he thought should be obvious to her. “Your parents love you very much.”

Evelyn could feel her teeth grinding together. She was tired of hearing this. “I know that-“

“And they are happy-“

“No, they’re not!” Evelyn shouted. She was as surprised as her aunt and uncle at her outburst and felt angry tears well up in her eyes. “Look, I’m not a child anymore. I just, I know my parents aren’t happy together and I don’t think it’s my fault or anything. I just want to know..” She trailed off, feeling the tears leaking from her eyes. “Was he ever that happy with my mum?”

There was a long silence and Evelyn found herself wanting to turn back time, back before she’d seen her father laughing and before she ever began questioning what this all meant.

“No,” Harry answered barely above a whisper. “I don’t think he was ever that happy with your mother.”

Though deep down she’d known this answer, it still came as a shock out of her uncle’s mouth. After all, he was the one who knew her father best, the person her father talked to the most. His words seemed to stretch on forever in her mind, bouncing around her brain as she tried to comprehend the truth.

“Was he that happy with someone else?” Evelyn asked finally, her voice flat.

“Yes he was-“ Ginny started but was cut off my Harry when he raised a hand. “Harry-“

“Evelyn,” he said meeting her eyes for the first time in a while. “We have already said more than we should have. This is a conversation you need to have with your father.”

Harry stood up suddenly, walking around the table and then kneeled down next to Evelyn, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know you have a lot of questions and I’m sorry we can’t give you the answers you want to hear but please listen to me when I say this: your father loves you more than he has ever loved anyone. I have never in my life seen him happier than when he’s with you.”

Evelyn felt tears gushing forward, aware she was now fourteen and she felt much too old than to be sobbing in front of her family. There was a sound of a chair moving and Evelyn felt her aunt’s arms wrap around her, pulling Evelyn’s head to rest against her chest.

“You are so loved Evie,” Ginny whispered her old childhood nickname in her ear.

 

Looking back years later it was that night Evelyn knew. Knew her father was in love with someone, someone who made him happy and laugh, someone other than herself and her mother. When she left the kitchen that night to washed her face she stared into the mirror and thought back to watching her father on that couch, head thrown back in laughter and the way he’d looked at her aunt. It was more than looking at a long lost friend. It was the way her Aunt and Uncle looked at each other, the way her grandparents still stared when no one was watching, but it was never the way her father had looked at her mother. And never the way her mother had looked at anyone.


	9. Teddy and Victoire's Wedding

In the summer between her fifth and sixth year, they celebrated Victoire and Teddy’s wedding. In the Weasley tradition, it was hosted in the backyard of the Burrow and the tents were bursting with extended relatives and members of the ministry looking important and trying to talk to her family members as if they wanted something. Teddy warned her almost all of them did want something when they sat at the rehearsal dinner the night before and told her to just walk away when they started wanting to talk to her father or one of her uncles. Teddy would know, he had spent his entire life an orphan of the war, heir to a moderate fortune after his grandmother passed and the godson to Harry Potter, the most famous wizard in a century.

Despite the strangers wanting for her to introduce them to someone, Evelyn couldn’t remember having a better time in her life. Her mother had even attended the ceremony, which she didn’t normally do for any family events, and gave Evelyn another adult to talk to while her cousins were getting a little too loud on the dance floor.

Evelyn was unsurprised when her mother had decided to leave well before the party had reached its peak and it freed her to dance with whomever she wanted and freed her father to smile. Hours after her mother’s departure when the family had started sneaking off Evelyn went into the house to use the loo and was surprised to hear voices in the living room, having been under the impression the house was off limits except in emergencies, which her’s had been.

Evelyn crept down the hallway, wondering who had snuck in and whether she’d be able to use the dungbomb in her pocket before they noticed her there. But the closer she got she realized it wasn’t any of her cousins who had crept in, but rather the voice of her father and another woman who sounded quite exhausted.

“I’m just saying you look nice,” her father said and there was a heavy sigh.

For a moment Evelyn wondered if her mother had come back to the party as the heavy sigh was one Evelyn was quite familiar with.

“Ronald,” the voice sighed affectionately. 

No, not her mother then, it sounded almost pleased when her father whispered something more to her.

“I’m just asking for one dance,” he said to her, sounding almost like he was begging. “Come on, I know you will.”

“You know me so well.” The voice teased.

“Always the tone of surprise,” he quipped.

His voice was so light, so cheerful Evelyn felt as though she was eavesdropping on an intimate moment. She wished suddenly she hadn’t heard the voices and crept down the hall. What if she was caught? Only, this was her father doing something she was certain he wasn’t supposed to. There was a shuffling and then the shoes seemed to fall into step, the slow rhythmic swishing of clothing told Evelyn they were dancing.

“Ron, what if someone sees us?” the female voice asked, sounding so familiar to Evelyn it was going to drive her mad not being able to place it. “We’re out in the open and-“

“We’ll hear someone coming in. The kids are far from quiet.”

 _Some plan that had been_ , Evelyn had thought to herself, _didn’t even think to check the house first._ Rooted in place she considered her options: walking noisily up the stairs would tell them someone was there and it seemed her best option. But it wouldn’t allow her to see the woman dancing with her father. Perhaps she could just peek around the corner, see who it was and then alert them to her presence. Evelyn had to know who this mystery woman was, dancing with her father in private not hours after Evelyn’s own mother had left.

As carefully as she could she stepped forward, intending on only darting her eyes around the corner for a glimpse. But what Evelyn saw made her gasp. Swaying on the spot with their bodies intertwined and her head on his chest, eyes closed in contentment was none other than Evelyn’s own aunt, Hermione.

Her noise seemed to go unnoticed, her father humming quietly, his own eyes closed and his hand stroking his partner’s back. Evelyn didn’t understand why she’d protested, why they were dancing inside in private while a perfectly good dance floor was just outside the door. Evelyn stood, transfixed, staring at her father who wore the happiest look he’d worn all weekend. She wasn’t aware of how long she stood, rooted in place, watching her father and aunt sway on the spot with relaxed expressions and a comfortable rocking. It wasn’t until Hermione’s eyes parted that her presence was known.

Immediately Hermione was hitting Evelyn’s father’s chest, jumping away and had tears in her eyes. Her father wore the familiar guilty expression she had seen on her troublemaking cousins one too many times. They didn’t say anything and Evelyn was still unsure exactly what she was exactly seeing, her father who had been so comfortable, her aunt with an easy smile.

Then it hit her all at once. Their looks, though not familiar on her father, had been the same looks she’d seen on Teddy and Victorie’s faces not hours before the look her Aunts and Uncles wore when they thought no one was looking, pure bliss…pure love. Evelyn could hear her heart thumping in her chest as suddenly, everything fell into place.

Suddenly, Evelyn held a new understanding of her father’s strained relationship with her aunt. The events at the lake last summer hadn’t been an accident. It was no wonder why her mother got mad every time Hermione’s name had been uttered. It was no wonder Hermione couldn’t ever manage to look Evelyn in the eye. This was the reason her Uncle Harry got sad when Evelyn had talked with him after the lake. This had been the great love of her father’s life, this had been the woman who had made him so happy all those years ago

“Evelyn,” her father was the first to regain speech, glancing between her and Hermione, who wore a devastated and deeply embarrassed expression. “This isn’t what you think it is.” He glanced to Hermione, forcing a smile he hoped was believable on his face. “We were just dancing.”

Evelyn looked between them again. “How long?” she asked quietly. She wasn’t a child anymore, her father should know she wasn’t stupid.

“How long?” her father asked as if it was a ridiculous question. “Evie I don’t-“

“How long have you been in love with her?” Evelyn interrupted, she didn’t want to be talked down to now, now that she knew. Her father stared into her eyes and then looked away. Evelyn turned on her aunt, wanting to know, needing to know. “How long have you loved him then?” 

“Evelyn,” Hermione breathed, her arms still wrapped tightly around her, as tight as Ron’s arms had just been.

“How long?” she asked in the same flat voice.

“Since I was in school,” it was her father who spoke now, unable to meet his daughter’s eyes. “Since we first met. Truth is I’ve never stopped loving her.”

Evelyn felt as though her entire world had suddenly flipped upside down. The life she had once known was over, the father she had always known was not standing in front of her.

“And you?” Evelyn asked in the same quiet voice, unable to stop the tears which welled in her eyes. Her aunt looked up at her. “How long?”

“I never stopped,” her aunt echoed in a whisper.

Feeling rather dizzy suddenly, Evelyn forced herself to walk over to the couch behind her father, wanting to sit down before she found herself on the floor. She buried her face in her hands, trying to think straight but couldn’t. Evelyn had always known her parents didn’t love one another. Evelyn had just never known her father loved someone else, someone else who shared his affections.

“What happened?” she muttered and felt the weight of someone sitting beside her. “If you both love each other then why?”

She already knew the answer to that of course and it was the only person in the room asking questions. Evelyn emerged, looking over at her aunt who seemed more capable of speaking.

“After the war ended your father and I were together. I was scared so I ended things and left for Italy as soon as I graduated.” Evelyn felt there was a crucial detail missing but didn’t feel she could accept the answer if she pressed. Hermione continued. “You know about the third rebellion, right?”

Evelyn nodded, they had studied them in school. The third and final wave of Voldemort’s followers who used their place in the ministry in their last attempt at the blood war. Forcing muggle-borns to marry purebloods to suppress the muggle-borns forever.

“They drew me back, tried to make an example of me.”

“Your mum and I had broken up and your aunt and I.” It was her father who spoke now from beside her. They shared another meaningful look. “We rekindled our relationship, only-“

“Only there was no way for us to marry and your mother and I had both been summoned.” Hermione sounded much sadder than her father. “The only way your mother would be safe was if your father married her.”

Suddenly it made sense. Evelyn had always known her parent's marriage had been rushed despite them dating for years. Why hadn’t she been able to piece it together when they’d studied it in school? Suddenly Evelyn felt so stupid. It wasn’t a feeling she was familiar with.

“Your Uncle Charlie was able to sneak me out of the country by marriage and well-“ she trailed off then, wrapping her arms tightly around her. “The rest is what you know.”

“So, you and Charlie aren’t in love?” Evelyn asked first, the easier of the questions.

“No, your uncle and I have never been in love,” Hermione answered.

Evelyn turned on her father, knowing she had to ask before she lost her nerve. “Why did you have me then?” she snapped, unable to keep the anger which had been building in check.

“Evelyn-“

“Was I an accident?”

“Evelyn I love you more than anything in this world-“

“I know that!” she said loudly. “I don’t doubt your love for me dad. I know how much you love me I’m just trying to understand.” Evelyn let out a long sigh, closing her eyes again. “Was I an accident?”

“Yes,” her father whispered.

Finally the truth. Finally, Evelyn understood why she’d never felt truly loved by both of her parents at the same time. She had not been wanted. She had not been planned. She was the reason her mother hated her aunt and the reason her father couldn’t be with the woman he loved.

There was the sound of the door opening and someone laughing loudly. Into the room stumbled her Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, arms tangled around each other and giggling. They paused at the sight of Hermione, Ginny blushing and then stopped dead as they laid eyes on Evelyn. Ginny rushed to her niece’s side right away, bending down and checking her over.

Harry, however, trained his eyes on Hermione who had a silent conversation with their eyes before speaking.

“She saw us dancing,” Hermione told them both and right away Harry rushed to Hermione’s side while Evelyn shot daggers at her Uncle for betraying her.

“Oh,” Ginny whispered, but not in shock, brushing back the hair from Evelyn’s face.

“You knew!” Evelyn shouted at them both. “All of you know and you’ve just kept this from me like it hasn’t been happening!”

“Nothing happened,” her father said from beside her. “What you’ve seen-“

“Bullshit!” she shouted. “I’m not a child. Don’t tell me you’ve both been in love with one another for thirty years and have never gone beyond swaying in the living room.”

“Evelyn,” Ginny whispered again.

“No! Because of me, we’ve all had to watch my father be miserable my entire life.” She turned on him. “If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be with my mum and we all know it.” She turned to her aunt, snatching her hair out of her Aunt Ginny’s grasp. “And you both have been accomplices in allowing him to be so miserable.”

“Evie-“

“No!” she screamed again, jumping up suddenly. “No, it’s all me it’s all-“

“It was my choice.” Hermione was the only one meeting her eyes. She shrugged out of Harry’s arms, not even looking at Ron. “It’s not your fault Evelyn. You are not the reason your father and I aren’t together, I am.”

Evelyn stared, unsure of what to believe.

“I was the one who forced your father to marry your mother. I was the one who decided to stay married to your uncle Charlie even after the laws had been repealed. You were not just some sort of consolation prize. I chose my life and your father chose you.”

Evelyn could feel the tears racing down her face. “Why?”

“By the time I realized the mistake I’d made, letting your father go, you were already in his arms. Your father waited a long time for me and I never chose him. He chose something better, he chose you.”

Evelyn sunk back to the couch, looking at her father who was desperately staring at her. He nodded as Hermione spoke, trying to convince Evelyn away from what she’d already discovered.

“Even if that’s true,” she whispered. “Why aren’t you together now?”

This, they seemed, they didn’t have as easy of an answer to. Her father and Hermione stared at one another for a long while, trying to come up with an easy solution.

“Leaving your mother would devastate her,” her father spoke in a low voice, avoiding Hermione’s eyes. “While I might not feel romantically for your mother I still care for her a great deal and couldn’t imagine putting her through that.”

“So instead you’ll just stay miserable?” Evelyn asked, perfectly aware of how rude she was being. She stood up, unable to stay in the same room as these people now that she’d learned what had really happened. “Some Gryffindor you are.”

And without asking for permission and without allowing anyone to realize what she was doing and stop her Evelyn stomped from the room, slamming the door behind her.

 


	10. Evelyn's Answers

Since the wedding, the days seemed to creep on and on with an increasing unpleasantness in the home. For the first time since she was eleven, Evelyn found herself wishing more and more that the term would start again so she could escape to Hogwarts and ignore the misery in her home. The tension in the air had been palatable since the wedding. Her mother, never pleasant, seemed to be particularly short with her father.

At first, Evelyn worried she’d somehow found out about what Evelyn had witnessed, but after a week of glaring and ice cold looks, Evelyn came to realize that this was not caused by the wedding’s events. This was always how her mother acted after family events with Aunt Hermione was in town.

Worse than her mother’s attitude was her father’s. He walked on eggshells around her, unable to meet her eyes and had stopped offering to take her into the store every day or bring her to her Uncle’s for dinner. He hardly spoke to her at all and the brief times he was home he simply offered her a pained, regretful smile.

Unable to face her Aunt and Uncle, Evelyn spent more time with her mother that summer than she had in years. Evelyn hadn’t realized how much of a stranger her mother was to her until that summer. Always being career driven and out of the home, she had grown cold and distant. They seemed to barely know how to speak to one another.

Their best times were spent side by side as Evelyn completed her summer work and her mother worked furiously on her book. But when Evelyn tried to engage her in conversation or suggest they leave the house, Evelyn felt like she was a burden, stealing her time. It seemed her mother was not capable of caring for Evelyn. It made the miserable evenings stretch on, and Evelyn began counting down the days until she could escape.

 

One night, her father stopping by long enough to shower and change his clothes before returning to Harry’s for the evening, Evelyn heard them arguing through shut doors. Her mother was shouting while her father kept the same calm and bored voice he always managed during their arguments.

“Why isn’t your daughter speaking to you?” Evelyn listened to her mother shriek. “What does she know?”

There was the short murmuring of her father’s reply and then him being cut off by her mother’s response.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that I’m the one taking care of her now!”

The fight lasted another twenty minutes. On his way out her father popped his head in the doorway, an impossible smile on his face given the verbal assault he’d just endured. When Evelyn looked up he seemed to remember they weren’t speaking and realize he was in her room out of habit. Giving her a pained smile he exited the room without another word.

 

At dinner that night her mother was particularly stiff. The tears she’d managed to conjure for Evelyn’s benefit dried but the sour expression remaining.

“What happened at the wedding?” her mother asked unexpectedly. “What happened with your Aunt?”

“What?” Evelyn asked, adopting a vaguely confused expression. “Which Aunt?”

“Your Aunt Hermione,” she said matter of factly.

For a moment, Evelyn worried her mother knew her role in keeping this secret, but it didn’t quite make sense. Surely she wouldn’t have waited this long to confront her.

“Aunt Hermione?” Evelyn managed to keep her face natural. “I saw her.”

Evelyn realized at that moment she was being interrogated. Her mother was a talented reporter after all. Evelyn had grown up watching her hone her craft when she investigated. _“Let them think you’re in the know.”_ Her mother had told her once. Evelyn’s mother had often brought her along when she was younger. Some of Evelyn’s fondest memories were the hours they’d spend at the Leaky Cauldron or Three Broomsticks. She felt important sitting there while her mother investigated someone. It was only when she was older than her mother admitted her own selfish reasons for bringing her. Having a child around gave the subject a false sense of security.

She maintained her blank stare with her mother. After a long moment of sizing each other up, her mother sighed dramatically and gave it up. Evelyn was rather glad she hadn’t confided in her mother. Even with no knowledge, she managed to make Evelyn miserable.

Finally, when she wasn’t able to stand it for a moment longer, Evelyn stood up, wanting a breath to herself.

“Where are you going?” her mother snapped at once.

“I’m going to pop over to Aunt Ginny’s,” Evelyn said automatically. She didn’t particularly want to face her aunt and uncle just yet, but it was second nature to escape over to them.

Her mother looked disappointed, but Evelyn didn’t waiver. She gave another dramatic sigh, lifted her glass of gin and excused her with a wave. Evelyn hurried from the room before her mother could think of a suitable reason to keep her from her family.

Wishing she’d thought of telling her mother she was going somewhere, anywhere else than her Aunt’s but knowing if she hesitated for too long her journey would be postponed she hurried into the grate and departed to the Potters. Aunt Ginny seemed as surprised as Evelyn to see her exit the grate. She sat at the kitchen table, pouring over some pictures of quidditch pictures with a cup of tea in her hand. Evelyn half expected to be told off from their last encounter when Evelyn knew she had been quite rude. Aunt Ginny, however, gave a warm smile and gestured toward her cup.

“Tea?” she asked in a perfectly pleasant voice, and at once Evelyn knew her Aunt was harboring no ill feelings towards her. Evelyn shook her head. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Evelyn managed, not quite trusting her voice.

She’d spent the last fortnight convinced that her Aunt would hate her for what she had said. Spending so much time surrounded by her mother’s disdain for her family, Evelyn had forgotten how reasonable her Aunt was, and her nasty words seemed far away and forgivable.

Ginny nodded. “I expect your father is in Teddy’s old room.”

Evelyn gave a grateful smile and set off through the house. She could hear her cousin’s voices outside the home and when she passed a window spied them on brooms racing around the yard. Knocking gently on the cracked door, Evelyn heard no response and pushed open the door to her cousin’s old room.

Evelyn found the room void of her father but filled completely with his things. It seemed half of his belongings were scattered throughout the room. His shoes lined the outside of the wardrobe and his bed was unmade. She had not been paying enough attention to notice that her father had moved out almost entirely. Feeling like she was spying, she walked further into the room, examining the parchment on his desk. They were filled with his messy handwriting and at the top of the desk as if he’d just walked out of the room, Evelyn spied two unfinished letters.

The first was shorter and addressed to her Aunt and the second, longer one with words crossed out and several drafts crumbled beside it, was a letter addressed to her. Her curiosity itched at her to read the letter addressed to her, but her common sense managed to win the argument. They bore her father’s thoughts. He would share them with her when he was ready.

As she turned to exit the room she passed the bedside table where a framed picture of her and her father sat. It had been taken at the wedding, before the argument. They were dancing together and laughing. Evelyn missed the innocence she had lost since the picture had been taken.

Her father wasn’t to be found in Harry’s study nor was anyone in the kitchen when she passed back through. She finally found him sitting in the garden, side by side with her uncle. They were talking in low, serious tones. At the sight of her, her father brightened with a smile which instantly fell as if remembering in the next moment the reason he hadn’t spoken to her in weeks. Her Uncle turned and stood with the same understanding smile her Aunt had given and offered her his chair.

“Would you like a drink Evie?” he asked at once, gesturing for her to sit down.

“Pumpkin juice would be nice,” she managed, her mouth feeling rather dry all of the sudden as she was faced with prospects of talking to her father alone.

Harry squeezed her shoulder as he passed, but otherwise said nothing as he disappeared back into the kitchen. Aware of her father staring she took the vacated seat, willing the tears in her eyes away.

“How are you?” her father asked. His voice was eager but he looked as uncomfortable as Evelyn felt.

“Fine,” she whispered, unsure of what to say. “I didn’t know you’d moved out.”

“Ah,” he said softly, looking back to where Harry had disappeared as if he could remedy the situation. “It’s just temporary until things cool down with your mother.”

“Did you tell her?” Evelyn asked.

He nodded slowly.

“Because I would have never told her,” Evelyn said quickly. “I swear I-“

“It’s not your secret to keep, Evelyn,” he told her firmly. A weight suddenly felt lifted from her shoulders. “You shouldn’t feel bad for what you’ve seen because I never should have done anything you didn’t have business seeing.”

Evelyn gave him a grateful smile. Unlike with her mother, Evelyn never felt she had to be the mediator for her father’s thoughts and feelings. In that moment, as she relaxed into her chair she realized that in fact, her father had never said anything bad about her mother to her. No matter how many arguments they had, no matter how cross they were with one another, he had never said a bad word about her mother. It was something her mother couldn’t reciprocate.

“Dad?” she asked, feeling quite brave for a moment. “You said you wouldn’t leave mum because it would devastate her. Only you didn’t really do anything and she’d already devastated enough.”

“Evelyn, I’m not trying to leave your mother,” he assured her. “What happened between your Aunt and I was a regrettable mistake, I have no plans to be with her.”

“Two weeks ago you told me you’d been in love with her since you were a child,” Evelyn answered. “I think you deserve that happiness. To be with someone who is as in love with you are you are.”

“Evelyn,” he said in a disagreeing tone.

Evelyn pressed on, speaking very quickly now. “If you don’t think it’s right to be with Aunt Hermione because of your past, or because of my mother then fine. But that doesn’t mean you should stay in a relationship which makes both you and my mother miserable. I don’t know why you’re the only one who's trying to fix something that’s so broken.”

He stared at her, speechless.

“Dad, if you want to be with Aunt Hermione then great. But even if you don’t, especially if you don’t, I can’t think of a single good reason for you to stay with mum.”

He opened and closed his mouth several times as if trying to think of a good counter-argument. But when he was unable to he leaned forward as if the words were coming to him as he spoke. “You’re only 16 Evie, you shouldn’t be dealing with trying to figure out where to live and your parents getting divorced.”

“I’m sixteen, dad,” she answered with a laugh, she didn’t feel as if she should be a strong consideration in her father’s decision. “In a couple of years, I’ll be out of school and figuring it out anyway. I’d rather have two happy parents then rather than two miserable ones.”

“You’re wise beyond your years,” he whispered, reaching over and squeezing her hand affectionally. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Evelyn smiled, feeling a rush of affection toward her father. “Do you think you’ll be with her?”

It struck her suddenly how odd it would be to no longer see her Aunt as her Aunt. Her world would hardly change though. She was hard pressed to find her parents in the same room. She couldn’t remember the last time they ate together as a family, or even if they had eaten all sitting together since she’d left for Hogwarts. Evelyn couldn’t believe it had taken seeing her father with someone else for her to realize how little her parents cared for one another. Yes, things would be changing. But she knew it only meant when she spent time with her father he wouldn’t be alone. It would be nice to see her father smile with someone who smiled for him too.

“Uh, yeah I reckon I will,” he answered, trying to sound confident. He gave a little smile and added. “If she’ll have me.” 

“Of course she’ll have you,” Evelyn agreed. “I’ve only seen one other person look at you the way she does.”

“Who’s that?” he asked with a curious smile.

“Uncle Harry.” They both chortled with laughter.

As if waiting for someone to call his name, the door opened and her Uncle peaked his head out nervously, looking around before joining them, handing Evelyn the glass of pumpkin juice she’d requested.

“Everyone alright?” he asked, giving her the time to compose herself.

“Everything’s brilliant,” her father answered, looking considerably more relaxed.

Harry looked back to the doorway and nodded. Evelyn spied her aunt from where she’d been eavesdropping with tears in her own eyes. Ginny joined Harry, wrapping her arm around his wait and smiling at Evelyn.

“Evelyn,” her Aunt started. Evelyn could hear an apology coming, and found suddenly she didn’t need one. They had been right all along. The questions she had been asking weren’t questions anyone but her father could answer.

“It’s okay,” Evelyn nodded, looking over at her father who looked much more relaxed. Struck with a thought she told her father. “You should go to her.”

For a moment he seemed to consider it and then shook his head, reaching over to put a hand on her shoulder. “I think a conversation with your mother is in order before that. And I think I’d rather spend the evening catching up with you.”

Evelyn found herself touched at her father’s words and found herself recalling the night she’d finally been confronted with the truth. Hermione’s words came back to her, _“I chose my life and your father chose you.”_ Evelyn found herself filled with a rush of affection for her father and Hermione. He had always put her first and this would be no exception.

“I want you to be happy dad,” she found herself whispering to her father. “No matter what I want you to be happy.”

He studied her over for a moment and then shook his head. “Evelyn I have always been happy with you.”


	11. Annabelle's Confession

Evelyn returned home with her father that night to find her mother sleeping on the couch. He hugged her one last time, reminding her to brush her teeth and sending her upstairs before going over to wake his wife. Evelyn expected to hear them screaming, or rather to hear her mother screaming, but when she inched open her door the voices she heard were angry but quiet and serious in a discussion. Though she had pushed her father to give in to the desires which had plagued his mind since before her birth, she wished for a moment that they could have put it off, or rather she wished they would have had this conversation a long time ago, back when she was younger and before she had to understand what she was witnessing. 

Though the lights downstairs never went off throughout the night, their voices stayed low and even when she peeked her head out onto the landing to eavesdrop on her parents they were talking calmly.

 

“What did Evelyn see?” her mother’s muffled voice asked. “At the wedding?”

“We were dancing, just the two of us in the house.” Her father answered. “But she figured it out, Evelyn has always been bright. She takes after her mother.”

There was the soft laugh of her mother and then a sniffle.

“I just wish you had been honest, back then.”

“I just wish you had too.”

 

Evelyn sat, crouched at the top of the stairs for perhaps another hour, listening to her parents' sad voices as they reminisced on the past twenty years, talking about moments of her childhood which Evelyn no longer remembered and the happy moments which seemed even to them few and far in-between. Finally, confident in the fact that her parents would not be using this as another game which she was a pawn in, she snuck back off to bed and fell into a fitful sleep.

She awoke to a quiet house and when she snuck past her parent’s bedroom, the bed was still made and the door wide open. She wondering where her parents were and what had been decided from the night before.

There was evidence of their conversation throughout the living room, tissues strewn about and open liquor bottles on the coffee table. In the dining room, there was a note from her father, instructing her to go to her Uncle’s house for breakfast and another conversation. She set about the house to find her mother only to stumble upon her in her study, looking puffy eyed as she lounged in her office chair. Upon Evelyn’s arrival, she looked up, sniffled and gave a shaky smile.

“You know I really loved him.”

Evelyn froze in her tracks, turning around to face her mother wondering if she’d imagined the words which had just come out of her mouth.

“Mum?” she asked, a familiar sinking sensation

“Your father.” She clarified with a grimace of a smile on her face. “When we first met. And I mean really loved him, over the moon giggling like mad loved him. He was handsome and brave and kind and everything I had ever been looking for. We were really happy at first, at least I thought we were. I was so blinded by our happiness that it took me a long time to even realize that no matter how much I loved him, no matter how strongly I felt he didn’t feel the same.”

Evelyn felt the now familiar sinking sensation in her stomach which came with discovering a long kept secret.

“Your Uncle Harry never liked me, he never said it, but it was always obvious. From the first time your father introduced me to him, it was clear that I wasn’t good enough for your father. Ginny was a little less subtle about her feelings towards me and your aunt has always been the gatekeeper to the family. I never stood a chance with your grandmother or any of your uncles, Ginny’s always had them wrapped around her finger. I remember the first time I met the whole clan, Ginny would interrupt every conversation I was having, she made it clear I wasn’t wanted, that I didn’t measure up. So I lied to your father to get out of going to family functions. It was exhausting, being in a place and knowing you weren’t wanted.”

“I had always known there was someone else, someone who he had known when he was younger whom he had been in love with.” She said this all very matter-of-fact as if Evelyn had always known that her father had been in love with Hermione. “I thought in time that he’d gotten over her. After all, how long can you spend pinning after someone who abandoned you and who you hadn’t spoken to in years?”

The anger in her voice diminished and she paused, looking lost in deep thought. Evelyn opened her mouth to speak but it was clear her mother wasn’t done. It felt as though Evelyn wasn’t necessary for this story to be told. As if now that she had started speaking, started explaining herself, she would not stop until it was all out.

“And then she came back. I caught them kissing in the kitchen and knew our time had come. Ever since we’d found out she was coming back it had felt like this wedge had been placed between us and when I walked in on them I knew it was over. I’m not going to pretend that I was just ready to step aside and watch him go back to her because I was so in love, but I knew our time had come. I ended things with your father and thought that would be it. I had spent the past two years loving someone who’s heart was never up for grabs. I was tired of wasting my time on someone who had no interest in me." 

"Then the blood laws passed." Her mother paused, looking Evelyn straight in the eyes as a haunted look came over her face. "I knew my father had been a wizard but my mother died before telling me who he was and all of the sudden I was in danger again and I had nowhere to turn. I was terrified, I didn’t know what to do and when you’re with someone for two years you believe that they will always come for you, no matter what.

“Deep down I believed your father would come for me. You’re not with someone for two years without believing they’d do anything for you. Even though we were broken up and she was back I still believed he would come and save me. Because how can you love someone for two years and not show up?”

Her mother looked up at her and Evelyn felt tears in her eyes. They’d read enough testimony over the years that Evelyn could imagine how terrified her mother had felt.

“But he never came. Instead, I was taken as a message to him and when he still didn’t come I was released to send a message to him. They believed as much as I did that he still loved me.”

“When your father told me he’d marry me it was like he was doing me a favor like it was something he was being coerced into doing. I mean he was, he never would have agreed if she hadn’t told him to. I spent the first months of my marriage just wanting to talk to the person I loved and instead I got to watch him fret over someone counties away and still in danger. Then she went and got herself kidnapped and I saw, I really saw, for the first time that even at our best he had never cared about me even a fraction as much as he loved her." 

Evelyn knew the looks her mother was talking about. She had witnessed them too. Never had she seen her father so happy as when Hermione was beside him.

“She came back and then I was forced to watch them together, him fawning over her as if she wasn’t married to his brother. All of this happened in front of his family who encouraged him!" she shouted and then dropped her voice back to a pained whisper. "The family that hated me for having dared to be in love with him while she’d been gone." 

“We got into this big fight and I asked why he was still bothering with me if he was so in love and I was told by him, _told_ by your father, that the powers that be had decided that she needed to stay in her marriage and your father needed to stay in his. I was livid. I saw no point in being married to someone who acted like I was this burden he was forced to carry. Your uncle was the chosen one and ever since then the three of them have taken on the burden of ensuring all is right in the world. I could never understand why it was my responsibility. I was ready to leave him, I was ready to walk out because I didn’t care about some ministry official or some “narrative”.”

Evelyn knew what was coming next, she had figured it out for herself the hard way. She had always known.

“And then you found out about me.” She said, voice barely above a whisper.

Her mother stared over at her as if surprised to find her in the room. She nodded slowly, looking Evelyn up and down with a look of pity.

“I’d never wanted children, I’d never wanted to raise a family and be a mother. It’s the reason why we hadn’t gotten married or moved forward. He wanted a family, I didn’t just want to raise children. I thought about not telling your father once I’d found out, but he’d always wanted children and it didn’t seem fair not to tell him when he had saved me after all. He was elated, your Uncle and Aunt had James and he was so ready to start a family." 

"I thought about leaving after you were born but while I was carrying you it felt like it had when we first started dating. Your father looked after me and cared about me. He wasn’t writing to her all the time and spending all his time over at your Uncle’s house. I think the happiest time in our relationship was that first year you were born. All your dad wanted to do was hold you. He looked at you the way he looked at her, only it was far more intense. From the first moment, he saw you he was completely taken by you." she smiled fondly, looking over at Evelyn and taking her in. "It made me feel wanted, giving him you."

“But, it didn't last." the smile slipped from her face. "We started fighting about how to raise you. I wanted to keep working so your father left his job at the ministry. When money got tight he started working at the shop, just on the weekends to make some extra money. Then he was working the morning shift and developing products and days would pass where we wouldn't say a word. He took you with him and I came home to an empty house most evenings. It felt like we never saw each other anymore. He was always off with you somewhere, out with the family who at best tolerated me. We began to fight about me leaving my job to care for you when I had never wanted to stop working to raise a family, it had always been your father's dream.

“I tried to make it work,” she insisted, “I tried going to family functions but everyone hated me for being the one that kept your father from making a fool of himself by being caught with his brother’s wife. I accused him of being with her again one Christmas and he told me I didn’t trust him and I realized he was right but it didn’t matter anymore, the damage was done. I tried a few times after that to reconcile but your father had you and the shop and didn’t seem to need me.”

“My friends tell me I’m a fool for staying with him, with someone who doesn’t love me. Someone who I’ve grown to resent for forcing me into this picture of a perfect life. But I didn’t want your life to be any harder than it needed to be. I never knew my father, I didn’t want to have a daughter who didn’t know me. I can see now that I haven’t been much good to you. I don’t have an excuse. I chose to stay in your life. ”

Evelyn found her self for the first time in a long time feeling truly sorry for her mother. A wave of guilt rushed over her as she thought back to telling her father to leave her mother as if her mother had been the only problem, the only reason for her father's unhappiness. Though Evelyn didn’t find herself agreeing with her parent's decision to stay together she understood suddenly that their relationship hadn’t always been so miserable.

“I know dad isn’t living at home,” Evelyn told her mother after a long silence. “And I know you’ve been miserable for a long time, and so has he.”

“This isn’t your fault dear,” her mother whispered, reaching out a hand to cup the side of her face.

“I know,” Evelyn assured her. “I know this isn’t my fault, but I can’t stand to see you both like this anymore.”

“Come here,” she whispered and Evelyn dutifully walked over to her mother, accepting her rare embrace. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”

Evelyn cherished her mother’s embrace even as she smelled like her last day’s clothes and gin. Evelyn knew when she returned home again it wouldn’t be the place she was leaving today. After a lengthy embrace, her mother pulled back, inspecting her face and looking her over.

“Your dad asked you to come over to your Uncle’s for breakfast. He’s missed you.” She patted the side of Evelyn’s face. “You have always been his pride and joy.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay mum?”

“Don’t you worry about me, Evelyn.” She assured her. For a moment longer, she stared into Evelyn’s eyes and then added. “Just, promise you’ll visit me for part of the holidays?”

“Of course.” She nodded,

“Your father and I will work it out,” her mother said as if reading her mind. “This is not your problem, let us be your parents for a little longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midway through writing Liberation, I started wondering about Annabelle's piece in the story. She's been a peripheral character throughout the series, but when I started thinking about her reasons to stay in the marriage this is what resulted. This story centers around Ron and his relationships with Evelyn and Hermione but I wanted to give Evelyn a more dimensional of her view of her mother. No, Ron and Annabelle's breakup wasn't all calm discussions but as this is told from Evelyn's perspective, I believe two parents who loved their daughter very much would shield her from much of the fighting as possible.


	12. Epilogue

Never before had Ron felt more like he was seventeen again. Standing in front of the mirror hanging inside the wardrobe at Harry’s home, he looked critically at his reflection, wondering if he should switch shirts while trying to flatten the stubborn spot of hair just above his right ear. Same girl, same nervous feeling. Throw in a war pending on the horizon and he might as well have been seventeen trying to muster up the courage to confess to the girl of his dreams how he really felt.

Only he wasn’t seventeen, and they’d tried this again and again and gotten their hearts broken in the process. He couldn’t shake the memory just after the lake house when he’d come over to the Potters to find Hermione’s head floating in the fireplace, tears running down her cheeks as she spoke with Ginny who sat on the floor trying to console her friend. Years and years they’d danced around their feelings towards one another, something always pulling them apart. He wasn’t going to allow them to fall apart again, not now when he was finally free and with a clear conscience.

Mustering up his courage, perhaps Evelyn had been right when she’d question his house alliance, he flattened the patch of hair one final time and picked up the flowers he’d picked out with Evelyn the day before at the store. He turned the door handle and to his surprise, someone was already standing there.

Mirroring his expression of shock was Hermione, her hair frozen mid-air, poised to knock on the door. She was breathless and frazzled, her shirt misbuttoned and if he wasn’t mistaken she hadn’t changed out of her house slippers.

“Hermione?” he asked in surprise.

“Harry floo’d,” she stammered at once. “He told me that um…” she paused and Ron was certain what she had been told. “He wanted to make sure I was going to be home today because he said that you might drop by to see me.”

“So you came to see me?” he teased.

Hermione’s face blushed scarlet. “Well, I just thought—er— through I might save you the trip.”

“Alright,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “And what did Harry say may I ask?”

Ron couldn’t help himself, his nerves had completely dissipated. He always forgot how easy it was to talk to Hermione, how natural it was to tease her and felt a goofy grin grow on his face.

“That, um,” Hermione stammered, unable to think of a suitable lie on the spot. She began to work her mouth and then looked up at his chuckling face. “Ronald, stop it.”

“I’m trying to give you a chance to talk,” he said, unable to keep the laughter from his voice. “You obviously came over here in a hurry, I thought you might want to say your piece first.”

Hermione seemed torn between embarrassment at her eagerness to come over so quickly after hearing the news and wanting to hear it for herself. Finally, the latter won out and she snapped. “Ronald.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled.

“Harry said you’d left Annabelle,” Hermione said anxiously. “Is it true?”

Ron thought about teasing her about showing up in a man’s doorway before the divorce papers had even been signed, but he felt it wrong to leave her in suspense any longer. After all, he’d been planning on showing up in her doorway before they’d even announced it to the world.

“Yes,” he told her, “Annabelle and I no longer together.”

“And you were coming to see me?” Hermione asked eagerly and then, realizing what exactly what she had said, asked in the same high pitched, speedy voice. “Is Evelyn alright?”

“Evelyn’s fine,” Ron assured her, touched that she would be asking about his daughter even if it wasn’t the burning question. “And yes I was coming to see you.”

He paused, watching her nervous and flushed face. “I was coming to tell you that I’m done waiting for you, Hermione. I want to be with you, properly. No more games, no more saving the world. Just the two of us.” Suddenly the nerves were back as he stared into her face, blank as she listened to him speak. “If that’s what you want Hermione.”

“Of course that’s what I want,” she said in a surprisingly calm voice given how flustered she still looked. A smile spread across her face. “I love you, Ronald.”

Finally, it was falling into place. “I love you too Hermione.”

And just as she had the first time, all those years ago, in the midst of battle, there was a clattering as the flowers in his hands fell to the floor and Hermione launched herself at him.

 

 

At the top of the stairs, Evelyn watched with bated breath as her father and aunt spoke, the tension between them visible and the building suspense almost too much to bear. Finally, the flowers cascade to the floor as Hermione launched herself at her father. Hermione’s feet were no longer on the ground and they swayed on the spot, oblivious to anyone else in the world. Evelyn was quite sure that even if she were to die it would take them several minutes to notice her.

Enthralled, Evelyn hadn’t noticed someone else creeping up the stairs and she jumped as a hand was laid gently on her shoulder. Harry was standing on the step below her, watching his two best friends with a smile on his face, his eyes crinkled with joy.

“I can tell you from experience this will take a while,” he told her in an amused voice, casting his friends another serene sort of smile before guiding her back down the stairs.

Back in the kitchen, her Aunt was still at the stove, portioning out eggs and toast. She too wore a happy expression.

“Think I should keep a plate for them?” she asked Harry who laughed and shook his head.

“That would have to be a pretty powerful heating charm,” he joked, joining her and handing plates out around the table.

Evelyn assumed her normal spot next to James who was fiddling with something from the shop.

“Did I hear Aunt Hermione upstairs?” Albus asked as he entered the room, dropping into a chair and taking a plate from her father. “What’s she doing here?”

“She’s upstairs visiting with Uncle Ron,” Ginny answered, casting a look upstairs and then muttered something which sounded suspiciously like “hope they remember how to use a silencing charm,” to Harry.

Harry pulled his wand inconspicuously at his side and cast a spell at the ceiling.

“You’d think they’d’ve figured out a permeant one from before.”

Evidently, Evelyn hadn’t been the only one listening carefully as a second later James asked, “Why would Aunt Hermione have cast a spell on Teddy’s room?”

“It was Hermione’s room before it was Teddy’s,” Harry told him.

“When was that?”

“Before you lot were born,” Ginny told them. “Aunt Hermione had a job in England and stayed with us, just before you were born James.”

This would have been just before Evelyn had been conceived then. It seemed they were now free to speak about what had really happened. Evelyn felt another weight lifted from her shoulders.

“Why’s Aunt Hermione visiting upstairs with Uncle Ron?” Albus continued, frowning at the ceiling.

“I expect it’s because they’re in love,” Lilly contributed.

A sudden hush fell over the room as all occupants turned to stare at her.

“What are you on about?” James demanded.

“Hermione and Ron are in love,” Lily repeated, unfazed by the sudden attention on her. “I thought everyone knew.”

Harry and Ginny exchanged looked of bemusement.

“They’re not in _love_ Lily,” Albus mocked at once.

“Sometimes your Luna side comes out a little too strongly dear,” Harry cut across Albus’s teasing. “Your Aunt Luna always has a knack for speaking the truth.”

“How long have you known?” Evelyn rounded on Lily.

“I didn’t know it was a secret,” Lily answered with a frown. “I just thought it was one of those things we didn’t talk about, like the fact that Aunt Annabelle never comes around.”

“She’s not joking then?” James asked, looking to Evelyn, who had just busied herself with her plate, for confirmation. “Ron and Hermione are shacking up?”

“They’re not shacking up James,” Ginny scolded at once. James waited until she looked away to roll his eyes. “But yes, your Uncle and Aunt Annabelle are separating and your Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione are in love with one another.”

James turned to Evelyn once more who finally looked up at him. “James, you’ll want to close your mouth before something flies in.”

 

 

“They look rather nervous, don’t they,” Annabelle said, peeking into the room.

Hermione, who always found herself surprised to find Annabelle speaking with her, glanced inside and nodded. “Think we should offer them a drink?”

“Only if you let them open the bottle,” Annabelle commented, “Did you see the look on Gwen’s face when Ron opened the wine bottle with his wand? She didn’t touch anything the rest of the night.”

Hermione stifled her giggle with her hand. “Oh poor things, they must think their son is mad marrying a witch.”

“Well, I did see Arthur trying to make conversation about the telly so I’m positive they just think we’re all mad.” Annabelle grinned, looking into the room fondly at her daughter who was examining a picture book with Gwen. “Oh, but it’s clear how fond they are of Evelyn.”

“How can you not be?” Hermione agreed, looking in.

Over the years they had reached a certain comradery. There had been the initial falling out, the angry looks during their few shared social events and continuing snide comments. But as time passed, Annabelle softened to Hermione and she could remember the first civil conversation they’d had, about Evelyn’s new boyfriend Liam whom Evelyn had met while on assignment in France.

Taking after her Grandfather, Evelyn had decided to go into a career of muggle relations, taking a job with a well-respected author who worked with Annabelle and was assisting in writing a book about the history of muggle and magical relations. Her counterpart was a young Irish man named Liam who told her the lore of his muggle town being taken over by some mysterious family who was never seen around town but threw outrageous parties where guests from all around the world would attend.

She had antagonized for months over telling him. His family was very prejudiced against the family as they’d encroached on their land all the while providing nothing back to the town. Hermione and Annabelle had laughed over giving Evelyn the same advice, secrets only festered with age. It was likely he had his suspicions anyway.

Liam had fainted when he found out but when he came to insisted on being taken for a broom ride. Hermione could feel Ron breathe a sigh of relief when Liam asked to see their magic for the first time. Ron had been trying incredibly hard to not reveal their family’s secret. Before each dinner with Liam he would spend the week before quizzing Hermione about muggle things, trying hard not to trip over pronunciations. Once the secret was revealed, Ron took delight in bringing Liam to the store and introducing him to the rest of the family Evelyn had always been secretive about.

It was how, over the years, Hermione and Annabelle bonded with one another. Trying to keep the peace between Ron and Liam’s family who were less than thrilled to learn their grandchildren might process magical blood.

“Of course they’ll have magical blood,” Ron had shouted when Hermione had clued him in after several snide comments over tea one afternoon. “Evelyn comes from a long line of strong and kind wizards. The Weasley’s are one of the Sacred 28.”

Hermione didn’t have the heart to explain to Ron that the list had been connected to prejudice against families whose blood wasn’t as pure.

No matter their parent's squabbles and misunderstandings, Evelyn and Liam seemed very happy with one another. When their appropriate courtship turned into a proposal, Hermione was pleasantly surprised when Annabelle enlisted her help to host a bridal shower. It was the one time all of the Weasley brides gathered in the same place without a disagreement breaking out.

Ginny confided in Hermione that she had always been a bit nasty to Annabelle because she thought Annabelle had been the person making Ron so miserable.

“Turns out my brother is just an idiot,” Ginny told her and then made a face. “But I guess he’s your idiot now.” 

Ginny made an effort to make peace with the mother of her niece and according to Annabelle, they’d had more pleasant conversations since the divorce than over the course of her marriage. When they gathered in her bridal suite, helping Evelyn prepare before the wedding, there was no tension, only joy. As the two women who loved Evelyn the most helped her dress, Hermione watched with pride in her heart.

At the end of the ceremony, while Evelyn looked radiant and was being directed around by a photographer, Hermione stood at the edge of the family, watching as she laughed with her bridesmaids and cousins in a large shot.

“Let’s get the mother and father of the bride,” the photographer called.

Ron grinned, squeezing the hand he had around Hermione’s waist before passing her his drink to hold and striding over to his daughter. Hermione watched fondly as he kissed the side of his daughter’s head and whispered his love into her ear. They were just through the first set when Evelyn scanned the room and made eye contact with her.

“Hermione, come join us,” she called, waving her over.

Hermione felt her eyes widen in surprise and shook her head. “It’s alright.”

“No really, you’re part of the family too.” Evelyn insisted. “Don’t make me beg, the bride always gets what she wants.” 

Hermione’s favorite picture on her desk was of the four of them, waving at the camera and laughing with one another.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe this story is finished. Thank you to everyone who provided encouragement along the way. Being able to share my work has been such a joy and I can't believe how supportive everyone has been. For everyone who's followed along the way, I hope you enjoyed this happy little ending for putting up with all the angst along the way. 
> 
> I'm going to be taking a short break from publishing as I focus on finals but I have a couple of stories in progress for when I return. If you want to stay up to date on my work please subscribe! Thanks again for all your support, it's been a pleasure! -Roy

**Author's Note:**

> This was the chapter that inspired the squeal and I'm so excited to finally be able to share it with you all! There's only a few chapters left to go in this story and I wanna thank everyone who's read along and provided encouragement along the way!


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